Red Duty, Black Honor
by ObsidianJade
Summary: It was inevitable, he realized, as he settled the white haori across his shoulders. Time progressed, change happened, and life went on. The intertwining lives of the Shinigami in post-War Seireitei. Slow-burn ByaRen and other pairings.
1. Brotherhood

**A/N**: Hey all! Welcome to Red Duty, Black Honor. As the title might suggest, this is a Bya/Ren story, although a number of other pairings will be present. Just to let you know; this will be LONG. About 15 chapters, give or take. It will be updated weekly. This first chapter isn't very good, but it establishes a bit of groundwork that will be necessary later on, so please bear with it!

**Timeline**: Set post - War. Spoilers will be vague to nonexistent for the most, but may crop up for all current (387) chapters.

**Warnings**: For this chapter, primary warning is Renji's mouth.

In case you missed it in the A/N (does anyone read those?), this story will be **yaoi**. Flamers may seek exit now or face ridicule later. Further warnings will be posted by chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own or profit from Bleach in any way; it is property of Kubo-san and I am borrowing his characters entirely without permission.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 1: Brotherhood

"_You will not touch my sister again!" _The words, spoken at a furious pitch that tore across the courtyard of the Sixth Division barracks, were accompanied by a wave of reiatsu, frigidly cold and sharp-edged.

It was met, and rebuffed, by another wave, this one hot, wild, scorching. "Like fuck I won't, you bastard," Renji Abarai snarled back, his hand clenching around Zabimaru's hilt until his knuckles blanched. "What the hell right do you have to call her your sister, anyway? You swoop in like some fucking avenging angel and save her, but it's always _after_ the fact! _After_ we got out of Rukongai. _After_ Ichigo saved her. _After_ she was almost killed by an Espada! After, after, after! You're never there when she really needs you! _You_ weren't the one that gave up your meals and your blankets at nights so that she wouldn't be cold and hungry. _You_ weren't the one who gave up your goddamn body to some bastard in the streets just to keep her safe!"

Tightening his grip on Zabimaru's hilt, Renji stormed forward, the wild edges of his reiatsu tangling and fighting with the sharper, clean-cut edges of the other's.

"Fact is, _sir_," he snarled, leaning forward until he was nose to nose with the other man, "You may have taken Gin's blade to save Rukia, but I took _yours_. So you tell me - which one of us is _really_ her brother?"

And with that, Renji spun on his heel and stormed out of the courtyard, leaving Byakuya Kuchiki shocked speechless in his wake.

* * *

It had been so fucking _stupid_. A whole damn lump of misunderstandings, piled on top of one another too fast to dig out of. Rukia had been having lunch with Ukitake-taichou - why, Renji still didn't know - when the man's disease had flared up, badly. The coughing fit had been bloody, and violent, and if the medics he'd spoken to were to be believed, severe enough for real concern. If Rukia hadn't started performing healing kidou on him as soon as it struck, the effects of it would have been much worse.

Renji had been returning from lunch with Shuuhei, Kira, and Matsumoto when they saw the Fourth descend in force on the barracks of the Thirteenth. Worried, they had followed them in, only to find the medics sweeping Ukitake's unresponsive form back to their own division for treatment, and a shell-shocked Rukia spattered with the man's blood.

She'd looked so shaken, so terrified, that Renji did what he'd always done when they were nothing more than stray dogs on the streets of Inuzuri - pulled her into his arms, holding her close, muttering in her ear that he would protect her. She let him hold her for a few minutes, until she was calm, then shoved him off and headed for the Fourth division, sparing Renji only a glance over her shoulder and a quick smile of thanks.

It was simply bad luck that Rangiku had still been drunk off her ass, and somehow, within an hour of the incident, had managed to mutate the entire affair from an innocent hug into a damn makeout session, and worse luck that Kuchiki-taichou had managed to overhear the damn mutated rumor on his way into the office after a meeting with the Kuchiki Clan elders. The latter was always enough to put him in a foul mood; the former on top of it was quite enough to make him lose his formidable temper.

He'd stormed into the office, the scent of cherry blossoms riding ahead of him like a storm front, slammed both hands down on Renji's desk, and demanded to know what had transpired between Renji and Rukia.

* * *

_Bewildered, Renji stared back up at his captain. "What are you talking about?"_

_The razor-edge of reiatsu hummed, threatened. "Do not play me for a fool, Abarai. What have you been doing to my sister?"_

"_I haven't been doing anything! What are you tryin' to say?"_

"_I am not trying - I am _telling_ you that if you ever threaten to compromise Rukia's innocence, the consequences to you will be fatal."_

_Renji had lost his temper, then. Seizing Zabimaru, he'd headed for the door, struggling to take the high road and avoid the argument. It might have worked, too, had Byakuya not followed him. _

_They had just entered the courtyard, where most of the division was finishing their lunches or practicing kata, when Byakuya had lost his faltering grip on his temper and snarled,_ "_You will not touch my sister again!"_

* * *

"Fuck."

"Yeah, pr'y much," Ikkaku drawled from the other side of the tree they were sitting under. "Why'd ya yell at him, anyway? E'en I know tha's stupid."

"Gimme the sake, Ikkaku, you've had enough."

"An' you haven't?"

"I'm still coherent, aren't I?"

A grunt was his only response, but the gourd landed in his lap anyway. Uncorking it, Renji drank.

"You really wanna know why I yelled at him?"

"Asked, din't I?"

"When I saw Rukia in Ukitake's office, she looked so... broken. She had the same damn look in her eyes that she did when she was supposed to be executed. An' it brought back all those damn memories... the way he'd been so damn cold, how he didn't care if she died." Snorting, Renji took another swig of the alcohol, barely noticing the burn. "He calls her his sister, and he didn't fucking care if she _died_! Of course I was gonna be mad. And then he came in and started yellin' at me about Rukia and her purity and I dunno what the _fuck_ that was all about..."

"Che, that's Ran's fault. Y'din't hear?"

"Hear... what?"

Forty seconds later, Renji was fully prepared to commit homicide. He was already in trouble - might as well earn it. He was, thankfully, distracted from his murderous thoughts by the presence of another reiatsu, tentative and familiar.

"Down here, Rikichi," Renji called with a sigh, and the young Shinigami appeared a few seconds later, hopping awkwardly down the slope to the tree where the duo were sitting. He stumbled the last few feet and recovered by bounding clumsily forward, the beads in his hair clacking.

"Renji-san -"

"Kuchiki-taichou made any concrete plans to murder me yet?"

"Ah, no, after you left he just stood there for a second, then ordered everyone to get back to work and disappeared. I think he might have gone home...?"

Renji snorted. "Digging my grave as we speak, no doubt. Though if he uses Senbonzakura on me, I won't need one." Pushing himself to his feet with a sigh, Renji dropped the sake gourd back into Ikkaku's lap, and, ignoring the older man's curses, motioned for Rikichi to follow him. He had something he needed to do.

* * *

"You're an idiot, Byaka-bo."

The noble didn't stir from his place at the window. "Surely you did not come all the way to the Seireitei simply to inform me of that."

Smirking, Yoroichi flopped down on the couch, kicking her delicate feet in the air to admire the dark-purple polish on her toes. "Nah, came to check on Jyuushiro. He's doing better, if you were wondering."

Byakuya hadn't been - he'd stopped in to see the other captain earlier. "Then why are you here, harassing me?"

"Because you need to be reminded when you're an idiot. It happens so infrequently I don't think you recognize the signs, even when they are biting you in the ass."

Raising an eyebrow at the backhanded compliment, Byakuya finally turned to face the woman sprawled across his couch. "I acted... hastily. I allowed my emotions to overtake my logic and common sense."

"Been a while," Yoroichi remarked dryly, and Byakuya very nearly smiled. It _had_ been a while - since his childhood, over a century before, when the young Shihoin princess had often goaded the then-temperamental Kuchiki scion into games of flash-tag.

"So, you wanna tell me why you started screaming at your lieutenant in the middle of the barracks?"

"I was not screaming. Nor did I start in the middle of the barracks. I was initially attempting to conduct a conversation in our office, and it... got out of hand."

"I'll say. So, you gonna tell me what had you so upset? Family troubles?"

Resigning himself to the interrogation, Byakuya sat in a chair facing the couch, sparing the woman a glare as he did so. "My meeting with the clan elders this morning did not go as I might have hoped," he admitted sourly. When Yoroichi raised an eyebrow in inquiry, he sighed faintly and began.

* * *

"_The situation is unacceptable," came the grating voice of his grandmother. "According to the reports we received, you were nearly killed multiple times in the recent war. You have no heirs, and Rukia is untrained and unfit to accept leadership of the Kuchiki clan. Therefore, we have come to the decision that if you have not found, married, and impregnated a suitable candidate within the year, Rukia shall be betrothed and wedded in order to provide a viable heir for the clan."_

* * *

"And you're honestly going to go through with that?" Yoroichi demanded, aghast. "You haven't so much as looked at another woman since Hisana died, and now they want you to just up and marry again?"

"I apparently have very little choice in the matter. It is the decision of the clan."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Byaka-bo, but you are the _head_ of the clan, right?" When he did nothing more than arch an ironic brow at her, she continued, waving her hands for emphasis. "You're supposed to be the one telling them what to do, not letting yourself get lead around by the nose! Rukia certainly won't roll over for whatever suitor they happen to pick out - I don't see any reason you should!"

"It is my duty to my clan, Yoroichi. If something is required of me, I have no choice."

"So your clan requires you to go out and find some random woman who just happens to have the right pedigree to satisfy your useless, pompous-ass clan elders, marry her and get a child on her even though there is no chance you're going to love her, and spend the next however-long being utterly miserable because of it?"

"Essentially."

"Gods, Byakuya! Isn't your happiness worth more than that?!"

"The mere fact that you consider your personal happiness to be of greater necessity than duty to your clan is why the House of Shihoin lies in ruins, Yoroichi. Now, please. Leave me."

Sighing, the woman slowly rolled off the couch and onto her feet. "Look, Byakuya. I've been around longer than you, and I've seen a lot more. And I grant you, my clan has fallen. But I have a good life, good friends, people I love. I enjoy my life. Can you say the same?"

He didn't answer her, just stared silently at an empty spot in the air above the couch until she finally gave up and turned to leave. She was halfway out the door when his voice called her back.

"Yoroichi."

"Hmm?"

"Would you marry me?"

He wasn't serious - she knew that, just by the angle of his eyes. "Hell, no," she answered, laughing. "We'd kill each other within a week. And Kisuke wouldn't be particularly happy if I was suddenly seeing another man."

A quirk of Byakuya's lips answered her; she smiled back at her old friend, turning once again to leave. As she breezed out, she threw a final word of advice over her shoulder. "Apologize to Renji - he's the best lieutenant you'll ever find!"

And with that, she was gone, a burst of Flash taking the goddess back to her happy life and the man she loved.

Alone in the mansion, Byakuya turned back to the window and sighed.

* * *

..._it is with deep regret that I therefore resign my commission as Lieutenant of the Sixth Division of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, effective immediately._

_Abarai Renji_

He added his signature with a flourish - not because he was happy, rather; angry and defiant. He had made his case clear; an irreconcilable clash of personalities between himself and his captain was threatening the morale of the squad, and based on 'the events occurring earlier this afternoon,' he felt it was best all around if he removed himself from the situation.

"There. Done." Blowing on the parchment to dry the ink, he shot a glance towards his couch, where Rikichi sat, toying nervously with the beads in his hair.

"Renji-san? Where will you go, now?"

Rolling up the parchment, Renji shrugged slightly. "Back to the 'leventh, I suppose. Zaraki doesn't give a damn about insubordination. Hell, I think he actually likes it. I won't make lieutenant there, but the fourth seat's open. It's enough."

"Should I -"

"Rikichi, don't even think of transferring. The Eleventh would eat you alive." Seeing the younger man's hurt expression, Renji backpedaled a bit, quickly adding, "It's not the end of the world, ya' know. I'll still train you. Just... stay with the Sixth. It's a good division."

"Yeah, but you _made_ it good, Renji-san. Kuchiki-taichou is... hard to work for, you know that. You were the one that we all went to, the lower ranks. We can't go to him like we go to you."

"You'll work somethin' out, kid. The Sixth managed perfectly well before me, it'll do fine now. Here," he added gruffly, tossing the paper at Rikichi, who bobbled it from hand to hand for a moment before catching it, "go leave that on Kuchiki-taichou's desk. I'll deal with my transfer paperwork after he signs off on my dismissal."

"If you say so, Renji-san." Bowing nervously, the younger man retreated to the door, pausing just long enough to add, "We'll miss you, sir," before he took himself out.

"Yeah," Renji muttered, staring at the closed door. "I'll miss you guys, too."

* * *

"I hope you're not planning on jumping off."

Renji snorted, not turning from his position, sitting on the very edge of Sokyoku Hill. His feet were dangling over the incredible void, the edges of his hakama ruffling in the light breeze.

"Depends on how mad your brother still is. It'd probably be a more merciful death than Senbonzakura."

Rukia gave him a wan smile as she settled herself cross-legged next to him, peering uneasily over the drop. "Nii-sama respects you... he'd use Bankai. It would be over quickly. I'm _joking_!" She added, when Renji turned an appalled look to her. "Nii-sama's not going to kill you, I promise."

"Yeah? Well, last I heard, I wasn't ever allowed to touch you again, so you'll forgive me if I'm just a little skeptical," he shot back, turning his glare back on the empty space over the Seireitei.

He did love Rukia - there was no denying that. However, he didn't love her in the way Byakuya was afraid of. They'd been through every terror, every ugliness imaginable in Inuzuri, seen one another exposed to the worst sort of pains. They'd stolen, fought, and sacrificed for each other. It was a bond between them that was closer than that of lovers - it was a bond of family.

"Yeah, about that..." Rukia began, and was almost immediately cut off by a deeper voice.

"I apologize."

Renji yelped; it was only the iron grip fisted in the back of his kosode that kept him from tumbling headfirst over the edge of the hill in shock. Twisting around, he stared in utter disbelief at Byakuya, who was crouched inches behind him, one hand still bunched in the fabric between Renji's shoulder blades.

Rukia, on Renji's other side, snickered faintly. "Nii-sama knew you wouldn't stick around if he showed up alone, so he asked me to distract you. Play nice," she admonished, kissed Renji's cheek, bowed respectfully to her brother, and calmly took herself off without another word.

Awkwardly, Renji turned back to face his captain - former captain?? - quite at a loss for words.

"Sir, I -"

"I received your letter," Byakuya interrupted, cutting off Renji's tumultuous thoughts. "And your resignation is not accepted."

"You... huh?"

"Need I make myself more clear?" Raising his free hand, Byakuya opened his fist; a rain of confetti-fine scraps of paper tumbled free, drifting over Renji's lap. The only fragment larger than an inch across bore a recognizable mark - Renji's own signature. The one he had defiantly scrawled across that same piece of paper only a few hours ago. Looking at the scraps, Renji suppressed a hysterical urge to laugh. The parchment hadn't been torn; the edges were far too neat. Kuchiki-taichou had unleashed Senbonzakura on Renji's letter of resignation.

"You are my lieutenant," Kuchiki-taichou said, calmly. "I intend to keep you as my lieutenant for as long as you are at that rank. Therefore, I have rejected your resignation."

"I can see that, sir."

Byakuya sighed, his frustration ruffling over Renji's ear. "And you were not at fault for our... altercation earlier."

"Sir?"

"I accept full responsibility for over-reacting. And I apologize."

The last part was enough of a shock that Renji very nearly fell over the edge again - thankfully, Byakuya's hand was still fisted in Renji's kosode and prevented the tumble.

"Perhaps," the noble suggested dryly as he rose to his feet, "we should continue this discussion in a less hazardous locale?"

"...yeah, that's probably a good idea," Renji answered finally, and, standing, fell in step with his captain as they walked away.


	2. Marked

**A/N**: Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and faved (in particular a few folks from the EHRC, who are being *extremely* tolerant of me messing around with other categories; you guys are the best!~) I was delighted with the reception received by the first chapter, and I hope this story continues to meet (and hopefully exceed) expectations.

**Note on Terminology**: Although I will not be scattering this work with random Japanese phrases, I will be using the terms Taichou/Captain and Fukutaichou/Lieutenant/Vice-Captain interchangeably, just because I think one will occasionally sound better in context than the other. Also, I will be be using the phonetic '-ou' spellings for most names and terms - please don't harass me about accent marks! (They never translate correctly anyway.)

**WARNINGS** for this chapter are, I believe, limited to allusions to underage prostitution/sex and mild profanity.

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 2: Marks

"About earlier - "

The words came abruptly out of a half-hour stretch of silence, and startled Renji badly enough that he spilled the tea he'd been drinking down the front of his kosode. "Ow, shit! Ah, I'm sorry, sir, what were you saying?"

Still sitting in his picture-perfect seiza, Byakuya very calmly passed a napkin across the table, and Renji dabbed apologetically at the tea on his uniform.

"During our... argument... earlier, you mentioned something that I would... like clarified."

The uncharacteristic hesitation in his captain's voice was enough to give Renji pause. Very slowly, he stopped blotting and set the napkin aside. " 'You weren't the one who gave up your goddamn body to some bastard in the streets just to keep her safe'?"

Byakuya nodded slightly. "If you do not wish to discuss the matter, I will not press it. However..."

Renji sighed, tipped his head back and closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was dull, toneless. "It's all right, sir. It was a long time ago.

"We were still kids, half-starved, freezing in the streets. Rukia found a food merchant who wasn't paying close attention, and we took everything we could carry from him, just to keep from starving. But he was paying more attention than we'd thought, and he grabbed Rukia. I knew what he would have done to her, so I offered myself instead. He didn't refuse, and I... couldn't."

Was it his imagination, or had he heard a gasp from the other side of the table? He shrugged it off, keeping his eyes closed, trying not to remember. "It got easier, after the first time."

"After the -"

The shock, the utter dismay in his captain's voice, prompted Renji to open his eyes again. He caught the mercurial gaze over the narrow distance of the table, over the tremendous distance of their histories, and allowed himself a bitter smile. "It was Rukongai, sir. You do what you have to, in order to survive. I was young, attractive, healthy. That was enough."

The horror in Byakuya's eyes didn't lessen, and after a few seconds more, Renji was forced to turn his gaze away and close his eyes again. "It kept us fed. It kept the others protected. That was all I needed to know."

"Renji, I -" the deep voice trailed off, uncertain, and Renji opened his eyes again to glare at his captain.

"Don't pity me, dammit. It's not like I'm the only one - ask Yumi, ask Shuuhei, hell, any of us Rukongai brats. You'll probably get the same story. Like I said; you do what you have to in order to survive."

"Do not mistake admiration for pity, Abarai," came the sharp retort, and Renji stared, incredulous. _Admiration_? From _Kuchiki Byakuya_?? "Clearly, you came through such appalling circumstances with exceptional strength of mind and character. I would not presume to deny that by pitying you."

There was another long pause, tense and uncomfortable, before Byakuya spoke again. "I must ask, did Rukia...?"

Renji snorted. "Hell, no. She's as pure as her Zanpakutou. She was always... too _good_ for that sort of thing."

"I said I do not pity you, Renji, and I will not. However, I never again wish to hear you imply that you are any less deserving of respect than Rukia is."

"Yes - I mean, no, sir," Renji answered, feeling rather off-balance. He'd never discussed his history with his captain, not like this. And he'd certainly never expected Kuchiki Byakuya, of all people, to say he admired Renji for having suffered a history as a child whore.

The next few moments passed with no sound beyond the whisper of fabric and the clink of their teacups, but it was a comfortable silence, this time. It was, again, Byakuya who broke it.

"We are indebted to you."

Renji started again, but his cup was nearly empty this time, and he managed to keep from spilling it. "Who's 'we'?"

A slight gesture of one slender hand somehow managed to encompass not only the austerely elegant room they were in, but the entire mansion that surrounded them. "The Kuchiki clan as a whole, and myself in particular. For your defense of Rukia," he added, seeing Renji's questioning look. "Although I had not realized it before today, I owe you a great debt in her honor."

"Forget it," Renji answered tersely. "We protect one another. Like I said, she's a sister to me, too. She - and you - don't owe me anything."

"A noble's debt is not so easily dismissed."

"_Fine_," Renji sighed, exasperation getting the better of him. "You wanna repay me? Lend me a kosode for the night. Mine's still soaked with tea."

* * *

It was a little tight in the shoulders, which wasn't unexpected. It was Byakuya's, after all, and the man was considerably smaller-framed than his lieutenant. Still, it would be quite sufficient for Renji to journey home in.

"Thanks," he offered, grinning sheepishly, as he tucked the trailing hem into his hakama and jerked the ties tight again.

Byakuya didn't answer; he was still regarding Renji with an oddly contemplative expression, one he'd first gained when the other man had unselfconsciously stripped off his tea-soaked kosode and juban, the stark blackness of his tattoos rich against his golden skin.

"Somethin' wrong, taichou?"

"No, nothing. Are all of your marks truly from your Zanpakutou?"

"Eh, yeah. Zabimaru brands 'em on me whenever I reach a new stage in my training. They about doubled when I reached Bankai."

Byakuya nodded slowly, thoughts moving behind his eyes. "I assume you are not aware that only a very few Shinigami ever have the honor of being marked by their Zanpakutou?"

Renji blinked. He hadn't been, actually. Quite frankly, he'd assumed that the marks were something unique to himself and Zabimaru, particularly since the nue had similar patterns in his fur.

"In fact, you are only the fourth current Shinigami I am aware of to bear a mark of favor such as that - and yours is by far the most extensive."

Renji sent a wordless question at Zabimaru and received only a grunt in response; the nue was soundly asleep and had no intentions of waking for something as unimportant as a lecture on Zanpakutou lore.

"Who are the other three?" he asked, genuinely curious, when it was clear the information wouldn't be volunteered by either party.

"Captain Ukitake - he has twin fish, marked on his hips, Captain Kyouraku, whom I believe has a two-headed dragon across his shoulders, and... myself."

"_You_, captain?!"

An upward twitch of the lips - Byakuya's equivalent of a smile - danced across that elegant mouth for a second. Turning his back to Renji, the noble quietly untucked his kosode and juban and slipped them off, leaving his back bare to Renji's eyes.

Byakuya's skin was not flawless, as some might have assumed. He was an active Shinigami; he had scars. The old ones, delicate silver lines, were almost invisible, but the newer ones, the ones sustained during the War, were still pink-edged, standing out in sharp relief against his alabaster skin.

Renji's eyes skipped across the spiderweb-pattern of scarring on his captain's shoulder, following the silken ripple of muscle down, tracing the curvature of the spine, and it was then that he saw Senbonzakura's mark.

It was wrought entirely in shades of silver and pink, almost vanishing into Byakuya's skin. The delicate, unbelievably intricate tracing of a cherry tree in full bloom was spread across the small of Byakuya's back, the roots dipping below the waistband of his hakama, the highest edges of the branches ending only a few inches below his shoulder blades. It was exquisite.

"Captain, that's.... it's beautiful," Renji whispered, moving forward, dreamlike, on his knees behind the other man, so that he could better see the artistry displayed on his captain's skin.

"Senbonzakura thanks you for the compliment," came the answer, shaded with something like amusement. Byakuya was still facing away from him, bare skin laid tantalizingly within reach...

Zabimaru hissed in his mind. Abruptly conscious of himself, Renji jerked back, pulling away fingers that had been a bare inch from brushing his captain's back. Scrambling backwards on his knees, he returned to the other side of the table, trying to slow his breathing. What the hell had he ben thinking? First shouting at his captain in full view of the squad, then now....

Biting his tongue to stifle a groan, Renji dropped his head in a deep bow, letting the respectful gesture keep him away from his Captain's too-perceptive gaze.

"Thank you, sir, for this evening and allowing me the honor of seeing your mark. And... I should... be getting home, I think."

"As you wish," Byakuya replied evenly, sliding his kosode loosely back over his shoulders. "And I will see you in the morning, fukutaichou."

"Hai, captain!" Flashing the man a jaunty salute, Renji grinned, slipped politely out the door - and then fled, as fast as his shunpo would take him.

* * *

"_You shouldn't tease the boy like that, Byakuya-sama_," Senbonzakura chided from the back of his mind. "_One of these days, he_ will _best you_."

"I know," Byakuya replied, settling himself back at the table to finish his tea. "There has never been a moment when I have doubted it."

* * *

"Oh! Good afternoon, Ukitake-taichou! You're looking much better."

"Given that when you saw me yesterday I was being hauled bodily out of my office by the Fourth squad, I would rather hope I'm looking better," the captain answered dryly, but the sarcasm was softened with a smile. "How are you, Abarai-fukutaichou?"

"Fine, thanks." A bit hesitantly, Renji fell in step beside the older man, swinging the bag containing his lunch aimlessly at his side while turning the question over and over in his mind. Of course, Ukitake was the one to ask - Kyouraku would just wave a sake bottle at him rather than answering - but it was a somewhat impertinent and very personal thing to simply ask outright....

"Did you have a question, Renji?"

Damn it, how did the man do that?! "I'm that transparent, eh? I do, actually, but it's... kinda personal."

"In which case I reserve the right not to answer, but by all means, please ask."

"Thank you, sir. Is it true, that you have a Zanpakutou mark? Two fish?"

"Ah, so you've made up with Byakuya-kun!"

Renji blinked. Maybe it was a side effect of living so long, that allowed the man to jump to conclusions so quickly and so accurately? "Ah, yes, sir. He apologized and we came to terms last night.... I think."

"That's very good to hear, Renji. And yes, Sougyo no Kotowari was kind enough to mark me. As you said, twin fish. I take it, then, that Byakuya showed you his own mark? It is exquisite, is it not?"

"Yes, sir, it's amazing."

"You know, you caused quite a bit of consternation among the captains when it was revealed that your tattoos were Zanpakutou markings. Generally, only the most powerful captains in the Seireitei would bear marks, and yet you first began to gain yours in the Academy, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Only captains? "Kuchiki-taichou mentioned last night that yourself and Kyouraku-taichou were the only others he was aware of having marks."

"Oh, he's mistaken on that matter - Toushirou-kun and Retsu-san both have marks, not that I'd expect him to know that. Toushirou's marks are all snowflakes, quite lovely, really, though I wouldn't mention them to him. But, as I said - until you, it was only captains who ever bore Zanpakutou marks. It's an exceptional honor, you realize - a sign of incredible strength."

Kyouraku. Ukitake. Unohana. The three oldest and most powerful captains in the Soul Society, after Yamamoto himself. Hitsugaiya, the youngest captain in history. And Kuchiki Byakuya - the man Renji had always desired to surpass.

He was in very, _very_ impressive company.

"I hadn't realized that, sir. Thank you."

"My pleasure. And now, I suppose we'd both best be getting back to our divisions; I have two half-panicked third seats to corral, and your lunch is probably getting cold."

* * *

The next week passed without incident.

Renji and Byakuya fell into a comfortable pattern of working, training, and talking. The revelation of Renji's history had evidently prompted Byakuya to reciprocate in kind, because Renji learned more over those few days about his captain than he'd ever imagined.

Byakuya was a surprisingly gifted storyteller; his dry, deadpan delivery and sardonic humor was enough to have Renji in fits of laughter on a daily basis. He would talk over their shared lunch, sharing little snippets of his past, and more than once Renji found himself reliving some incident of the noble's youth, generally involving Yoroichi and occasionally featuring guest appearances by Kyouraku's hat, Ukitake's library, or Sasikabe's tea set.

Exactly one week after their argument, a Captain's meeting kept Byakuya from the office for the morning, preempting their usual lunch session. Feeling bored and perhaps a bit lonely, Renji finished his paperwork quickly and met up with Shuuhei, Kira, and Matsumoto instead, hoping their company would distract him.

They were still in the middle of their meals when the messenger appeared.

* * *

"Wait, they want us to _what_?"

"_When_?!"

Patiently, the man repeated his message. "Lieutenants Abarai of the Sixth Division and Hisagi of the Ninth Division are to report to the Senkaimon tomorrow morning at 09.00 for a one-month training mission to Karakura Town, Human Realm."

"I suppose it hasn't occurred to you people that I have a squad to run? _And_ a newspaper?!" Hisagi snapped, brandishing his chopsticks at the helmeted man as though tempted to be brandishing Kazeshini instead.

"It has been arranged for officers of the Eighth, Tenth, and Thirteenth to handle the affairs of your division while you are in Karakura, Hisagi-fukutaichou."

Raising an eyebrow, Hisagi turned to Matsumoto. "You know anything about this?"

"Hmm." Smiling around her sake cup, she leaned forward, batting her eyelashes. "Shuu-kun, how far are you from achieving Bankai?"

"Bankai?" Shuuhei repeated blankly. "Decades, I imagine. I never pursued it under Tousen, and I've barely had time to keep up my training since I took over the squad. What do you know that I don't?"

"Rangiku-san, you know how upset Hitsugaiya-taichou gets when you read his confidential papers. Particularly when you're reading them instead of your own," Kira scolded from across the table.

"Aw, you're no fun..."

"Does Kuchiki-taichou know about this?" Renji demanded of the messenger, who was doing a very good impression of waiting patiently for them to formally acknowledge the message so that he could leave.

"Hai, Abarai-fukutaichou. At the captain's meeting this morning, Kuchiki-taichou was one of the first to suggest it."

_He... suggested it?_ A dull wave of shock crashed over him, leaving a tingling numbness in its wake. Renji could only stare silently at the messenger, barely aware of Shuuhei finally dismissing the man. He and Byakuya had been on such good terms since the night after the argument - was it only because it had taken this long for his captain to arrange for him to be shipped out? Was this a punishment? Why else would he be sent to the Human World for a month, so soon after their argument?

Barely acknowledging the others, Renji paid for his portion of the meal and headed back to the Sixth as quickly as Shunpo would take him.

* * *

"Sir, have I done something wrong?"

"By all means, Abarai-fukutaichou, come in." The words were dripping sarcasm, which Renji ignored, throwing himself to the floor on his knees. It was rare that Kuchiki-taichou used his private office in the barracks - he generally shared the secondary office with Renji - and he certainly wouldn't appreciate Renji barging in on him like this. However, it was unavoidable. Renji _needed_ answers.

"My apologies, Kuchiki-taichou, but I received word while you were at the captain's meeting -"

"That you were being assigned to a month-long training mission in Karakura. This is correct, and please be assured it is no cause for alarm."

"No cause for -"

"You are being assigned, at my suggestion, to help Hisagi Shuuhei achieve Bankai." When Renji didn't respond, he glanced up from his paperwork for the first time since Renji's interruption. "Close your mouth, fukutaichou, or your tongue will begin attracting dust."

Shutting his mouth with an audible snap, Renji continued to stare at his captain for a moment longer while that rather incredible tidbit of information processed.

"Why?" he managed, finally, staggering to the uncomfortable guest's chair and flopping down in it.

"I suggested you because you have prior experience in training of this nature. Your training with Yasutora Sado was highly successful. You have exceptional talent with your own Bankai, and you and Lieutenant Hisagi are, if I am not mistaken, friends."

"That's all true, sir, but... well, why Hisagi? Why now?"

"The Captain's meeting this morning was to debate Hisagi-fukutaichou's elevation to the rank of Captain. In order for us to do so, he must have reached Bankai."

_Ah_. With that last piece of the puzzle, this began to make a bit more sense. "Does he know?"

"If he does not, he will shortly. Notification was sent to him."

Silently, Renji nodded. "I see. So... I'm leaving tomorrow?"

"Nine a.m. sharp. I will see you off. You may take the afternoon to prepare for your journey."

Renji nodded slowly. So... it was up to him to help his old senpai reach Captain? If it had been anyone other than Hisagi, he might have felt jealous, but... there was no question in his mind that Shuuhei deserved the promotion. And if Renji could help him achieve it, then so much the better. And for Kuchiki-taichou to have suggested this... "Thank you, sir. For... everything."

"Thank me again in a month, fukutaichou. Dismissed."

* * *

"So, Captain, huh?"

Hisagi blinked back at him, expression rueful but his dark eyes sparking with humor. "If they've put me in your hands? Not likely."

"Gee, thanks a lot, senpai," Renji shot back, grinning fiercely. "You know, it's not wise to insult someone who's been put in charge of your training."

"I'll keep that in mind," came the sardonic response. "When talking to Urahara."

Renji flipped him off in response.

"Are you always this dignified in the mornings, Abarai-fukutaichou?"

"Taichou!" Hastily folding his hands behind his back, Renji made his best attempt at looking innocent. Renji being Renji, it didn't work particularly well, and Byakuya raised one ever-dignified eyebrow at his lieutenant in response. Anything they might have said, however, was interrupted by Ukitake and Kyouraku's appearance.

"Ah, Hisagi-san, Renji-san, you're early!"

"Didn't want to eat up too much of your time, sir," Renji replied, grinning at the senior captain as he and Shuuhei shouldered their packs.

"I appreciate your consideration. Now then, good luck, both of you, and we'll see you back here in a month's time."

Renji nodded briefly to Ukitake, but his gaze was turned behind the man, to where his own captain stood silent in the morning sun. Just as Renji stepped over the threshold of the Senkaimon, Byakuya silently mouthed the words '_good luck_.'

Smiling broadly, Renji stepped forward into the blinding light.


	3. Changes

**A/N**: Posting a few hours early this week, just... because. Again, major thanks to my reviewers and fave-ers, (HUGE thanks to BloodyRoses in particular, your reviews are the biggest ego boost I get all week!)

**Warnings**: Language, again. Nothing serious.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Three: Changes

* * *

"Oy! Anybody home?" Shouldering through the front door of the Urahara shop - hung with a 'Sorry, Closed!' sign in Urahara's appallingly messy handwriting - Renji stared around the darkened interior. "The fuck? Where is everybody?"

A whisper of movement from the far corner of the store caught his attention, and he had just begun to turn when a familiar voice cut through the shadows.

"Sorry, Renji-kun, they're aaaaallll gone..."

Smiling broadly, Ichimaru Gin stepped into the light.

* * *

"Son of a -" Throwing down his pack, Shuuhei reached for his Zanpakutou, only to find Renji's hand securely around his wrist.

"Relax, senpai. He's harmless now, remember?"

"He's _not_ harmless," Shuuhei scowled, but slowly released his grip on Kazeshini's hilt all the same.

Gin had been the only one of the three treasonous Captains to survive the War, and it had only been the intervention of Captain Hitsugaiya, Matsumoto Rangiku, and Kira Izuru on his behalf that had prevented him from being executed after it.

After a great deal of debate, Gin had been handed over to Kisuke Urahara 'for use as an experimental subject,' his reiatsu channels destroyed and his Zanpakutou shattered. Exactly what Urahara _did_ with the man wasn't clear, but whatever it was had the odd effect of causing Gin's eye and hair color to change, at random and entirely unrelated intervals. The last time Renji had been out here, two months before, Gin's left eye had been brown, his right one blue and purple, and his hair had been neon green.

Kisuke had evidently put a little more effort into complimenting colors this time around. A royal-blue streak, edged with indigo, colored the main section of Gin's bangs, highlighting the fact that his eyes - both the same color this week - had been turned to a rich shade of amethyst. The rest of his hair had been returned to its normal shade of silver. He was wearing a hip-length lavender yukata over a pair of blue jeans, a combination that should have looked patently ridiculous, but somehow suited him. His narrow feet were bare, and heavy piece of purple silk cord was knotted loosely around his pale neck.

Even without prodding the cord with his reiatsu, Renji could sense the kidou contained in the collar. It was a restraint - delicate to look at, probably fatal to fight against.

"An' Renji-kun's right, Shuu-kun," Gin added, batting his eyes - eyes that he hadn't held shut since the war ended - at the pair. " 'm harmless as a declawed kitten. No reiatsu, mm? An' no Shinsou, either."

"Where is everybody, Gin?" Renji interrupted, not wanting to involve himself - or worse, Shuuhei - in any of Gin's psychological games. Even without his former powers, the man could still talk you into believing black was white and white was purple polka-dots, and Shuuhei had far more issues stemming from the betrayal than Renji did.

"Mm, Tessai an' the brats are out shoppin', an' Kisuke's down below with Ichi-kun. He said yer free to go down as soon as yer settled in."

"Right, thanks," Renji answered calmly, and strode past the man with a nod, his firm grip on Shuuhei's wrist leaving the other Lieutenant little choice but to follow in his wake.

* * *

"How the hell do they expect us to sleep under the same roof as that psychopath?" Shuuhei hissed, as soon as they'd gotten into the hallway.

Renji just shrugged in response. "He keeps to himself, for the most part. And while you're right, and he's not harmless, he's not dangerous, either. You saw the restraint collar he was wearing. I'm sure Urahara's got it bound into his brain waves or something, ready to liquify his brain if he thinks about violence."

Biting back several comments on whether Gin's brain actually required liquefaction, Shuuhei settled on saying, "I don't trust him."

"Neither do I," Renji answered with a shrug, rolling the door to the guest room open and pitching his bag inside. "But when I was in the Eleventh, I could never trust that the guy sittin' next to me at meals wasn't gonna try to take my head off 'cause he wanted my Seat. Just the way things are. I'm never gonna trust Gin, sure. Doesn't mean I'm gonna waste energy on staying mad at him when we've got other things to worry about. He's being punished; let it go, Shuuhei."

Grimacing, the other Lieutenant merely followed Renji's example in pitching his pack through the door and remained silent. They made their way back to the front of the store in silence, where Gin lifted the cover off the hidden ladder for them with no more than an "All set?"

Renji gave the former Captain a polite nod as he slipped into the hole; Shuuhei stared across the gap at him for a moment before silently following Renji down.

They'd gotten about halfway down the ladder when the shockwave struck.

Cursing, Renji clung to the metal rungs as the waves of reiatsu-laden wind tore past them, the scorching heat making the ladder unbearably hot beneath his hands. Glancing upward, he caught Shuuhei's gaze and nodded, once.

Drawing their Zanpakutou, both men released their grips on the ladder and plunged.

* * *

"I told you not to teach him the incantation."

"It wouldn't have _worked_ without the incantation!"

A delicately stifled cough was the only response. Kisuke Urahara opened his mouth to respond again, eating a fair amount of dust in the process, when two identical _pats_ drew his attention to the base of the ladder, where Renji and Shuuhei landed, crouched, weapons drawn, both searching for the danger.

* * *

"What the hell...?"

Glancing around, Renji tried to absorb what he was seeing. The immense training room under the shop had seen a lot of abuse in its day, not the least of which had been sustained by Renji's use of Bankai to train Chad, shortly before the War.

The damage it had taken from Hihiou Zabimaru was nothing compared to this.

A crater spanning at least a hundred feet across had dug itself into the rocky ground. Black scorch marks decorated the rocks lay scattered around the circle, clearly having been blasted from their previous positions by whatever force had created the earlier shockwave.

Standing well off to the side of the damaged circle were Urahara and a lean man that Renji vaguely recognized. It took him a moment before the ragged, flame-like hem of the second man's coat - so similar to Ichigo's shihakusho in Bankai - clicked in his memory.

"Oy, Zangetsu. Long time no see."

"Renji," the Zanpakutou spirit nodded back, but anything else he might have said was interrupted by a yell from the center of the crater. There was a tingling burst of reiatsu that indicated shunpou, and Ichigo landed next to his mentor and his Zanpakutou, muttering curses and wiping soot from his face.

"_I told you it wouldn't fucking work_!" the young man roared at Urahara, who blinked back at him from behind his fan, unperturbed.

"And _I_ told _you_ to regulate your reiatsu. If you can't do something that simple, it's no great surprise it blew up in your face, now, is it?"

"Maybe if you'd actually try _teaching_ me instead of throwing me into all this shit headfirst -"

"Ichigo, the only way people like you learn anything _is_ by being thrown in headfirst."

" 'People like me'? What the hell are you implying?!"

"...the hell?" Shuuhei muttered suddenly, and Renji turned his attention away from the furious Substitute, back to his old senpai.

"What is it?"

"That blast pattern - I recognize it. It's Shakkahou."

"What? There's no way..." Staring into the crater, Renji felt the not-unfamiliar sensation of disbelief sweep over him. Shakkahou was only a thirties-level kidou, barely a third of the way up the power scale. There was no way in hell it should have been able to cause this kind of damage.

Then again, this was _Ichigo_ they were dealing with. He'd turned every preconception the Seireitei ever had on its ear, so why not turn Shakkahou into the kind of destructive force that usually only kidou in the nineties could hope to be?

"That kid..." Shuuhei muttered, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

* * *

"And your training is done for the day, go, practice on your own. Though I would advise having Inoue-san present to undo any damage you case." Beaming madly, Urahara calmly grabbed a fistful of Ichigo's kosode and quite literally threw him to the ladder, ignoring the stream of shouted curses that trailed the teen's flight.

"And you," Urahara added wearily, turning to Zangetsu, "_please_ keep trying to help him regulate and refine his flow of reiatsu."

"Even I can only do so much, Kisuke," the spirit answered dryly, and dissolved into nothingness before Urahara could reply, re-materializing in sword form on Ichigo's back as the young man bounded up to the shop, still making his feelings on the matter abundantly clear. Even Renji raised an eyebrow; some of Ichigo's vocabulary wouldn't have sounded out of place in the Eleventh.

When Ichigo and his rant finally vanished through the false sky, Urahara turned his gaze on the two Shinigami lieutenants standing nearby, his smile growing to genuinely alarming proportions "So-oo, Hisagi-san. I understand you need to achieve Bankai."

* * *

"Ah, Byakuya-kun! Thank you so much for agreeing to come."

"I would hardly refuse your invitation, Ukitake, though I admit I am curious as to the occasion." Seating himself calmly at the table, the young captain surveyed the bounty of food spread over it with a wary eye. All of his favorite dishes were there, even his peculiar favorite of curried bananas. "And exactly what you are attempting to bribe me for."

"I'm not allowed to indulge a friend? After all, you would hardly appreciate me offering you chocolate."

Byakuya refrained from pointing out that Hitsugaiya rarely appreciated the chocolates either, and occupied himself with making selections from a few of the dishes. The food was quite excellent, he realized, and subsequently found himself enjoying the best lunch he'd had in quite some time. Hurriedly-grabbed take-out, eaten only just slowly enough that it didn't overturn on the paperwork, was no substitute for a good, well-prepared meal.

Ukitake, politely ignoring Byakuya's unsubtle hints to get on with asking whatever he wanted to ask, made small talk about the weather, his books and flowers, and the health of Byakuya's koi carp throughout the meal, until the young noble had devoured the last bit of spicy banana and the actual topic of conversation could be put off no longer.

"I asked you here today because I wish to talk to you about Rukia."

Dark eyebrows flashed upwards. "Has something happened -"

"Oh, it's nothing to be concerned about! As you are well aware, however, when Rukia graduated the Shinigami Academy, the only reason I did not place her as a seated officer within this squad was the letter you had sent to me, requesting she be kept out of such a position." Folding his hands, Ukitake leaned forward across the table, his dark eyes intent on Byakuya's icy ones. "I would like you to reconsider."

The younger noble did not answer immediately, electing instead to slowly finish the cup of tea in his hand, setting the empty vessel carefully back on the table before asking, "Is there a particular reason you are making this request now?"

Ukitake sighed softly. "It's been over forty years since Kaien's death, and the Thirteenth has been without a lieutenant for far too long. Neither Kotetsu nor Kotsubaki have the potential to rise to Lieutenant status anytime within this century, nor could I, in good conscience, promote only one of them if they did. The events of the War showed me, very clearly, that I cannot allow this division to continue without a full and proper command structure. Should anything happen to me, there must be another who can take my command."

"And you believe," Byakuya said slowly, reading the very clear subtext that Ukitake had laid out for him, "that Rukia would be willing to take over the position of the man she idolized - the man she killed?"

"The Hollow had already killed him; Rukia merely put him out of his misery," Ukitake responded calmly. "That aside, if it's presented correctly, yes. What she endured in Hueco Mundo helped give her peace of mind about the actions I forced her to take on the night of Kaien's death."

"I see."

"Truth be told, Byakuya-kun," the older captain said, leaning back and favoring the other with a stern expression, "ever since Kaien's death, I have been waiting for Rukia to achieve an acceptable level of maturity and stability, both with her emotions and her powers, to take lieutenant's position. I believe she has finally done both, something that you would be aware of if you spent more time looking at Rukia, and less at Hisana's ghost."

Had that statement been uttered by anyone else, they barely would have closed their lips on the last syllable of his late wife's name before their blood had decorated the walls. As it was, Byakuya's reiatsu spiked furiously, a razor-edged, arctic chill, before he reasserted control of himself.

"Ukitake, that statement -"

"Is entirely correct, and you know it." Sighing, the other man leaned forward again, planting his elbows on his knees and fixing Byakuya with a penetrating stare. "Tell me, what is Rukia's favorite color? Favorite foods? What kind of music does she listen to? Do you know the answer to any of those questions, Byakuya?"

Both of them knew full well he did not; instead of answering, Byakuya lowered his gaze, refusing to meet the disapproval in Ukitake's eyes.

"They are, incidentally, lavender, rice dumplings and eggs, and although she listens to classical music to please you, she is quite fond of a human-realm Japanese rock artist named Gackt."

"....I see."

"It is a rather sad state of affairs when your sister's captain knows her better than you do, Byakuya. I trust you will rectify it."

"I will... make an attempt to do so."

"Good. And as to her promotion...?"

Sighing, Byakuya dropped his gaze back to the tabletop. "I dare not lose her as well, Ukitake. However... I do her no favors by denying her strength."

A broad smile of approval lit up Ukitake's face.

* * *

Reviews feed my hungry soul.


	4. Learning

A/N: Hey all! Many thanks again to all my lovely readers and double thanks to my reviewers, your comments are what keep me going!

For those of you waiting to see Shuuhei and Renji's training, we'll get back to them next chapter; this week, we return to the Seireitei to spend a little time with dear Kira. Enjoy!

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Four: Learning

* * *

When he'd received the summons from the First Division, Kira Izuru had been terrified.

He was pleased that it hadn't shown on his face, not while he was in the Third's barracks, anyway. Serving under Gin for as long as he had gave him a poker face to rival Captain Kuchiki's.

By the time he actually got to the towering doors of the First's barracks, however, his fear had begun to overcome his well-practiced ability to hide it, and he found his hands shaking as he pressed them against the door.

Sasikabe met him two steps in, glanced at him for a split second, and shook his head slightly. Leaning forward, he patted Kira gently on the shoulder and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "Don't worry. You're not in trouble," before drifting off again to do whatever it was he was in the middle of doing.

Which was all very well and good, but if he wasn't in trouble, what in the world was he doing here??

Kira didn't find out the answer to that until almost an hour later; either some sort of emergency had come up - which he doubted, most likely it would have been noticeable - or it merely amused Yamamoto-soutaichou to keep his subordinates waiting.

And so, bent in a painful bow with his forehead pressed against the polished wood, Kira waited with no small amount of lingering fear to hear why Yamamoto Genryuusei had summoned him.

"Good grief, child. Stop bowing, I can't give orders to the back of your head."

Hardly true, but Kira's back and elbows were already protesting the position; he readjusted himself into a careful seiza, resting his hands on his thighs and keeping his gaze properly downcast. "How may I serve you, Yamamoto-soutaichou?"

"You are among the most proficient of kidou users in the ranking officers of the Gotei 13, is that correct?"

Startled, Kira mouthed silently for a moment before managing to stammer out a bewildered, "Yes... sir?"

"And you are acquainted with the Substitute Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo?"

"Yes, sir," Kira replied, more firmly. It was harder _not_ to know Ichigo. He hadn't had the same amount of time to interact with the young Vizored as, say, Matsumoto, and certainly not Renji, but they had a nodding acquaintance at least.

"Would you consider yourself an adequate teacher in the art of kidou?"

Was this line of questioning going somewhere?? "I... ranked top in my classes at the Academy in learning and performing kidou, soutaichou. I have not attempted to formally teach it."

"Well answered. Lieutenant Kira, as of today, you are being given a secondary assignment. Any duties you cannot fulfill in the management of Squad Three will be taken over by your current assistant, First Division Third Seat Aodawa. Report to the Senkaimon in one hour. Captain Ukitake will give you the details of your assignment then."

* * *

Kira managed to waste the next twenty-two minutes reorganizing his perfectly organized paperwork and attempting not to think. However, the harder he tried _not_ to think, the harder he wound up thinking, until he finally threw down the small, sand-filled rubber ball he'd been toying with ("It's a stress-management device from the World of the Living, see? You squeeze it and it helps relax you!"), because no matter what Matsumoto said about this ridiculous human invention, it wasn't helping him; and headed out of his office.

"Kira-fukutaichou?" Aodawa asked, mildly confused, as the blond lieutenant went by.

"Going to see Ukitake," came the terse response, and Kira was gone in a burst of shunpou.

Chuckling to himself, Aodawa scribbled a note on a piece of paper near at hand; _'Displays moderate patience; twenty-three minutes elapsed before break.'_

* * *

Ukitake's fifth seat met Kira at the gate to the Thirteenth's barracks. "He's been expecting you," she said simply, and conducted Kira through the elegant muddle of buildings to Ukitake's office, knocked once to announce him, and took her leave.

Ukitake's low voice called out almost immediately for Kira to come in, and he did so with no little trepidation.

"I was expecting you earlier," the Captain smiled at him, setting aside the book he'd been in the middle of reading. "Would you care for tea?"

Briefly, Kira wondered if this man had ever been anything less than a paragon of polite behavior, then decided that the day Ukitake wasn't polite would probably signal the last Apocalypse. "Thank you, yes," he replied, settling himself on a cushion in front of the man's desk. "I was hoping you could tell me -"

"About your assignment, yes," Ukitake interrupted smoothly, handing him a steaming cup. "I expect you're in a fine set of knots worrying about it!"

Kira accepted the tea and nodded mutely. A 'fine set of knots' was a pretty good description of his intestines right now.

"It's not much to worry about, actually. You were selected because of your high proficiency with kidou - you and Hinamori are the most talented users of it in your age group, outside of Byakuya-kun, but his personality isn't exactly suited to the task at hand."

And Hinamori was still recovering from the emotional breakdown she'd suffered when she witnessed Aizen's death, which rather ruled her out. She was barely handling paperwork at this point; anything involving kidou was probably beyond her.

Toying awkwardly with his cup, Kira hesitated a moment before voicing his question. "May I ask, sir, what exactly is the 'task at hand'?"

Ukitake's eyebrows jumped. "Sensei didn't tell you, then?"

"No, sir. He didn't tell me anything, actually, just asked questions."

"Ah," the silver-haired Captain sighed, shaking his head minutely. "Well, in that case, I'll start at the beginning. It was decided that, in the interest of promoting equal standards and good relations and such, that Kurosaki Ichigo is to be educated in the finer aspects of Shinigami life if he is to continue as an auxiliary Shinigami, including tradition, deportment, and particularly kidou."

_Oh._

"They want me to teach Kurosaki kidou?" Kira realized that his voice had struck a painfully sharp pitch, and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to shout. But... me, teach Kurosaki?"

"You are one of the very few ranking officers with the right skill level and personality," Ukitake replied calmly, taking a sip of his own tea. "Soifon and Byakuya are both exceptional kidou-users, but their... particular attitude towards Ichigo would make teaching him very difficult, ditto Toushirou-kun. Hinamori is regrettably incapacitated, and the senior captains cannot be spared at the time being. You are, essentially, our first, last and only real choice."

Feeling mildly overwhelmed, Kira sat back, staring down into the teacup still in his hands as though he could read answers in the murky liquid. He didn't have much choice in the matter, regardless of how he felt about it, but, when he reached beyond the bewildered shock, he found something that felt like... pride?

The sensation was so unfamiliar that he almost didn't recognize it at first. He was pleased that they found him worthy of this assignment, happy to be entrusted with something so important.

It meant he was finally starting to break the chains that Ichimaru had left on him.

"Very well," he said, his voice so clear and calm that it startled him at first. "I accept the assignment."

"Excellent," Ukitake smiled, setting his cup back on the polished tray. "In that case, I suggest we go and meet your new student at the Senkaimon, Kira-sensei."

A weak laugh - something else unfamiliar, after so many long years - struggled it's way out of Kira's throat as he returned the captain's smile.

* * *

They arrived at the Senkaimon with a few minutes to spare; minutes which Kira spent shuffling his feet nervously, wishing he wasn't too disciplined to pace, and Ukitake spent sitting serenely on a flat rock, Sogyou no Kotowari settled across his crossed legs, in a light meditation.

The Gates appeared with a clatter and a rush of reiatsu, opening with their usual, blinding light, spilling out a characteristically scowling Ichigo and a blur of black and orange, which touched down for a split-second and vanished in a puff of dust.

"I take it," Ukitake remarked, calmly smoothing his hair as he glanced after the now-vanished blur, "that Youroichi-san is here for a visit?"

"Aa." Shrugging his pack into a more comfortable position on his shoulder, Ichigo gave the captain a brief but polite nod. "How've you been, Ukitake?"

"Oh, well enough, thank you. I trust you remember Squad Three Lieutenant Kira Izuru?"

"Oh... yeah. Hey, Kira."

Kira nodded back, feeling awkward. The thought of teaching Ichigo kidou had been fine in the abstract, but faced with the reality; the intense, burning heat of Ichigo's reiatsu, still uncontrolled, with that eerie, cold undertone that his Hollow gave it.... he was beginning to have serious doubts. Until, at least, Ichigo threw him a lopsided, apologetic little half-smile.

"You're the one stuck teaching me kidou, huh? What'd you do to deserve it?"

"Apparently it's the price of being the best," Kira answered dryly, and was surprised when Ichigo barked a short laugh in response. It improved the young man's appearance dramatically, not having those frown lines etched into his forehead.

_'Makes him look like Shiba-san_,' came the unbidden thought, and Kira glanced sideways at Ukitake, just fast enough to catch a lingering sadness in the man's eyes. It didn't last, though; within a breath, Ukitake was smiling cheerfully, recommending a training spot for them and inviting Ichigo to dinner afterwards, yes, of course Kira could come along! And here, why didn't they take some chocolates out with them in case they needed a snack?

Kira accepted the chocolates, more for politenesses sake than anything else, and quickly excused them before Ukitake could suggest anything else. He and Ichigo made good use of Shunpou in leaving the Seireitei, heading outside of western Rukongai to one of the abandoned training fields.

The one they eventually wound up at was actually one of Shuuhei's favorites - a jagged, rough-edged little cliff overlooking a rocky waste. Nothing out here to kill or injure, only massive boulders, dead trees, lifeless dirt.

When they were younger, it wouldn't be uncommon for Kira to find Shuuhei out here at obscene hours of the night, dancing in the air while Kazeshini's blades spun around him. He would sit back here on the cliff, listening to the angry music of the chains, watching Shuuhei train until he was exhausted, at which point Kira would silently join him, patch up any wounds Shuuhei had managed to inflict on himself, and offer him a onigiri or two.

When they had eaten, they would walk back to Seireitei together, often in silence, occasionally discussing whatever came to mind. Kira would return to his squad; the Fourth, at first, before Ichimaru came along and claimed him, while Shuuhei would head off to the Ninth.

They'd stopped meeting for Shuuhei's training, these last many years; after Kira was promoted, his duties to Ichimaru ate up more and more of his time and energy. Until now, he hadn't realized how much he missed those nights.

Running a hand gently over the rock he'd always sat on, Kira felt another faint smile trace its way over his lips. Maybe he could make some time once Hisagi returned from the Living World to come out and watch his practices again.

"Here?" Ichigo's voice broke his reverie, and Kira glanced up at him, nodding.

"Yes, this is fine. We're well away from any civilians, and I can set up a good shield."

"All right then." Nodding slightly, Ichigo reached behind him, wrapping one hand around the cloth-wrapped hilt of his Zanpakutou. Drawing the immense blade from his back, he planted it point-down in the rocky soil.

Before Kira could question what in the world he was doing - he wasn't at a stage where he could combine his Zanpakutou with kidou - Ichigo settled both hands against the hilt and channeled a massive burst of reiatsu through the blade.

When the dust cleared, there was a second figure standing beside Ichigo; a tall, thin man with wild brown hair, the ragged hem of his velvet jacket swirling in a nonexistent wind.

Ichigo coughed once, waving away the billowing dust. "Kira, this is Zangetsu. He's gonna try to help me control my reiatsu, so I don't blow us all up by mistake."

Kira gaped in wordless astonishment. This was... Zangetsu? Ichigo's Zanpakutou?

Honey-colored eyes sought Kira from behind shaded lenses. "You wield Wabisuke, correct?" The deep voice had an odd echo to it, something just a little bit otherworldly, and the spirit's face was impassive.

"Hai... Zangetsu-san," Kira managed, trying not to stutter. Much to his surprise, the spirit nodded with obvious approval.

"This should work well." And with no more than that, he settled himself cross-legged on the ground and dropped instantly into meditation.

"Is... he.... is he always like that?" Kira stammered, looking back and forth between Ichigo and Zangetsu in astonishment. Ignorant as he was of Shinigami custom, Ichigo wouldn't be aware of how... _personal_ it was for one Shinigami to see the spirit of another's Zanpakutou.

"Eh, Zangetsu-ossan? Pretty much, yeah. Just be glad I don't need Shirosaki to help me out, too."

"Shiro... who?"

"My Hollow."

The icy undertone of Ichigo's reiatsu pulsed at the words, as though the Hollow was listening to their conversation. Kira grimaced, fighting down a shudder. Ichigo's Hollow was the _last_ thing he wanted to consider when he was already nervous about this little venture of theirs. "Let's get started, shall we? We'll begin with Hadou. The first spell is Shou..."

* * *

"So, Bya-bo, how's things with the family?"

Byakuya heaved a sigh. He was up to his elbows in paperwork without Renji here, still trying to think a way out of his clan elder's ultimatum, and now had Youroichi to deal with on top of everything else. No wonder he was developing a migraine.

"Much the same as when you left," he replied evenly, working his way steadily over the paper in front of him. He'd done thirty of these same forms over the last week; at this rate, he was well on his way to having the cursed thing memorized. "Which begs the question, why are you here again?"

"No reason. Had a note to drop off is all, and I figured I would check in on you."

"I am sure that eventually you will comprehend I neither need nor wish to be 'checked in on' by you, Youroichi."

"Mm-hm. Not today, though! Thought you might be interested to know that Renji's doing well, by the way." Sitting down on the edge of the aforementioned lieutenant's desk, Youroichi stretched out her legs, arching her back in a move designed to provoke. All it accomplished was Byakuya trying harder to ignore her.

"He and Hisagi have been working up quite a sweat every day, training. I joined them in the hot spring the other day, and I must say I was quite amazed..."

Byakuya's brush paused on the paper. Bingo!

"...at just how far down those tattoos go."

The elegant hand tightened for a moment, ever-so-slightly, around the polished wooden shaft of the brush, the knuckles paling. Then the moment was over, his composure resumed, and the brush returned to it's steady motion.

"Really, he has the most amazing body..."

The knuckles paled, again, and a small drop of ink blotted the paper when he twitched.

"I'm surprised you haven't noticed it, really. I mean, you're in this confined area with him for so many hours a day.... You train with him, too, and I know Senbonzakura is murder on clothes..."

"Youroichi..."

Ah, _there_ was that voice. That dangerous, the-icy-depths-of-hell-will-receive-your-shredded-soul voice that Byakuya could pull off like nobody else.

"You mean to tell me you haven't seen him naked, even once? What a shame! It would certainly improve your temper, just looking at that bit of muscled art... There's one _particular_ appendage that I think would do you a great deal of good -"

"_Youroichi_!"

She leapt off the desk with a hysterical giggle, pausing just long enough to make sure he was following before shooting out the door. Byakuya hadn't roared like that in a _century_! Obviously she'd struck a deeper nerve than she realized. Still, that just made the chase more fun!

* * *

He shouldn't have risen to the bait. He knew that. It was stupid, immature, emotional, all of those things that a nobleman and a captain wasn't supposed to be.

However, the problem was, he _had_ risen to the bait. Which meant Youroichi had obviously struck a nerve with her taunts about Renji.

Even as he leapt across the roofs of Seireitei in hot pursuit of his childhood nemesis and oldest friend, Byakuya Kuchiki couldn't help wondering exactly what it was about Renji Abarai that got so under his skin.

* * *

"Ah-CHOO!"

Beaten bloody as he was, Shuuhei couldn't help but laugh as Renji sneezed so hard he stumbled, nearly tripping over Hihio Zabimaru's twining coils. The head of the Zanpakutou twisted slightly, turning back to look at it's master with an incongruous concern somehow apparent on the skull-like face.

"I dunno who you pissed off, Renji, but remind me to thank them," Shuuhei grinned, sweeping Kazeshini down at his training partner, taking advantage of his moment of distraction.

Zabimaru blocked the attack, of course, but it put Renji off-balance for a second longer.

"Dammit," the redhead muttered, swinging the hilt in his hand to send his Bankai screaming after his friend, "why do things like that never happen to Kuchiki-taichou?"

* * *

Back in the Seireitei, Byakuya was a half-inch from catching ahold of Youroichi's sash and effectively winning their little game of tag when he sneezed.

Laughing, Youroichi slipped away.

* * *

* A/N: (snickers) For those of you not aware, it's often believed in Japan that if you sneeze for no reason, it means someone is talking about you behind your back. Byakuya is largely immune to this phenomenon, being noble, but Renji is, as always, the exception to the rule.


	5. Breaking Point: Shuuhei

A/N: Posting Monday this week, because we're expecting another winter storm (gaaah... effing HATE WINTER!!!) tomorrow, and I don't want to leave you guys hanging if we lose power.

Warnings: We're going back to Shuuhei and Renji's training this week (you're welcome, Joyce! :-D ), so expect injuries and language. Also, Gin! (Who is a warning all by himself...)

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Five: Breaking Point - Shuuhei

Hisagi Shuuhei collapsed to the ground, his body aching with the dull, numbing pain of reiatsu depletion. Kazeshini lay on the rocks beside him, one of the scythe-blades snapped, the chain tangled.

A hundred feet away, Renji was still on his feet, if barely. There was a bone-deep wound across his forehead that had missed taking out his left eye by a quarter of an inch, coating the entire side of his face in blood. Similar wounds, all serious, decorated his left thigh, right side, the center of his chest, and his left shoulder halfway to the elbow. Hihio Zabimaru was still twining itself sinuously around its master, hissing restlessly at Shuuhei. For a split-second, Shuuhei thought he heard an unfamiliar voice, not Kazeshini's but with the same resonance, growling at the back of his mind, but it vanished before he could make out any words.

As if in response to it, though, Renji banished his Bankai with a short jerk of the hilt, re-sheathing his sealed blade in a practiced movement.

"You're done for the day, senpai."

Sad, but true. Hisagi could feel the throbbing ache of bruised, possibly broken bones, along his left side, blood flowing from the dozens of wounds on his body - not to mention the throbbing headache that always seemed to accompany his using his Zanpakutou for extended periods.

"Can you walk to the spring?"

"Not much choice," Hisagi answered, wearily. His breathing was strained; had he broken ribs, when Zabimaru's head slammed into him a few hours ago? "If I can't, you'll make me crawl."

"Damn right," Renji answered, limping forward slowly. The crimson-haired lieutenant wasn't above using Zabimaru as a crutch, Hisagi noticed, and felt just a tiny bit better. Obviously that hit on Renji's leg had gone deeper than he'd realized. Reaching out with one hand, he found the grip of one of Kazeshini's scythe-blades and dispelled his shikai with a thought. He managed to sit up enough to re-sheath the blade before Renji made it to his side.

"On your feet, senpai," came the weary half-chuckle, and Shuuhei found himself getting dragged upwards by a merciless fist tangled in the back of his kosode. He grabbed Renji's shoulder for support, trying to avoid the deep gash he'd put in it and grimacing when the other man hissed anyway.

Leaning awkwardly on each other, the pair managed to stumble their way to the healing hot springs tucked into a secluded 'corner' of the vast training room. Neither one had the energy or the care to remove what was left of their shihakusho before stumbling into the water, and Renji stopped only long enough to remove his waraji and tabi socks before wading in. Shuuhei, who had been fighting barefoot, didn't need to bother.

They sat in silence, Renji half-dozing as the water around him slowly filtered from crimson back to clear, thanks to some mysterious cleaning process that the pool performed on itself, while Shuuhei watched to make sure the other man didn't pass out from blood loss and drown.

"What're you so depressed about, Hisagi?" Renji mumbled after a half-hour or so, and Shuuhei jumped. The redhead's eyes were still closed, and he gave every appearance of being asleep.

"How did you -"

"Work with Kuchiki-taichou, r'member? Y'get pretty used to readin' people's emotions from their reiatsu."

"_What_ reiatsu?" Hisagi snorted. He was drained, to the point that he was considering popping one of those damn pills the Fourth Division was so damn fond of.

"Y'got enough," Renji answered, his voice still bleary from his half-asleep state. "So, wha's the matter?"

"I'm not making progress," Shuuhei answered, glaring at Kazeshini, where the blade rested on a conveniently designed rock at the side of the pool. It was hardly his Zanpakutou's fault, of course, but he needed to be angry at something, and he was already mad at himself. He'd already been here three weeks, he'd been taking blows from Renji's massive Bankai for three weeks, dodging Ichimaru's currently-blue eyes and Urahara's snide comments for _three fucking weeks_, and so far he had nothing to show for it. Aside from the fact he was getting better at dodging, for all the good that was doing.

The only reprieve he got - if you could call it a reprieve - was when he and Renji went out into Karakura to wrestle with the few Hollows that were still appearing there. And half of the time, the Hollows had already been defeated by the time they arrived at the site. Occasionally, it was by Uryuu or Chad, who stopped long enough to exchange a few words before moving on again. Once, it had been that silver-haired Quincy, who had sniffed disdainfully at their appearance and vanished before they could say anything.

Most often, however, they arrived to find a lingering flavor of a Shinigami's reiatsu on the air; one they didn't recognize, and captain-strength. When they commented to Urahara that there was obviously a rouge or exiled Gotai captain running around Karakura, the man had laughed and waved it off, telling them not to worry.

Nowhere had they seen Ichigo, who seemed to have vanished off the face of the Human plane after they'd bumped into him here, three weeks ago. When asked about that, Urahara had only replied that Ichigo was off training, although he declined to elaborate on where, simply suggesting that Renji and Hisagi get back to their own efforts.

* * *

Shuuhei shifted, and something crackled in his side that definitely should not have. Obviously, he wasn't getting as good at dodging as he'd thought.

"Tried talkin' to him?" Renji asked, nodding vaguely in the direction of the two Zanpakutou

"Kazeshini's not much of a conversationalist. Unlike you and Kuchiki-taichou, not all of us have our Zanpakutou round for tea every weekend."

"Dun' need t' be snippy about it," Renji answered, lifting his head and blinking his eyes open. His hair was still wet and clinging damply to his face, since the first thing he'd done when he'd gotten in was duck his head under the water to heal the gash on his forehead. "Especially since whenever Zabimaru shows up, it's to call me names and smack me around until I do what it wants. They. Whatever. 'M just sayin', it wouldn't hurt for you to try talking to him. It makes it easier."

"For you, maybe," Hisagi growled, and Renji let the subject drop. It wasn't exactly a secret that Hisagi didn't like his Zanpakutou. Kira thought it was depressing, Matsumoto thought it was silly, and Rukia, when asked, thought that Hisagi needed therapy. Which was probably true. Being around Tousen and his constant refrain of 'Justice!' for that long was probably enough to drive anyone round the twist.

* * *

"Still no progress, Hisagi-san?" Urahara asked mildly, two hours later, as he served out dinner to the motley group surrounding the dinner table. Ginta snorted in something like contempt, Ururu made a soft noise of sympathy, and Tessai thumped Ginta in the head sharply enough that the boy's yells almost covered Gin's snickering.

Hisagi only growled in response, devouring the rice in front of him with a single-minded determination in an attempt to ignore the rest of his dinner companions.

"Typical. We not only get a buncha useless freeloaders, we wind up with _weak_ useless freeloaders," snarled Ginta, and Tessai smacked him on the head again.

"Aww, ain't Shuu-kun's fault he's broken," Gin cooed, waving his chopsticks under the boy's nose. Ginta swatted them away.

"Whaddya mean, not his fault? 'Course it's his fault he's weak!"

"Ain't," Gin answered, wiping Ginta-cooties off on his sleeve before digging back into his dinner.

"If you have something to say, Ichimaru, say it," Shuuhei snapped, before Ginta could say anything more.

" 'm just sayin' that yer exactly what Tousen wanted ya t' be."

Everyone at the table froze. Gin rarely spoke of Aizen, willingly or otherwise - for all that he'd followed the other man, there had been no love lost between them - but his contentious relationship with the former Captain of the Ninth was apparently quite open for discussion.

There was a splintering crack, and Shuuhei's chopsticks dropped to the table in pieces. Very slowly, Hisagi pushed himself to his feet and strode around the table to where Gin was sitting, fisted both hands in the front of the man's yukata, and dragged him upwards. Nose-to-nose with the former captain, he very slowly ground out the words "What did you say?"

"I said, yer exactly what Tousen wanted ya to be. Divided. Afraid a' yer own power. Yer broken, Shuu-kun. Jus' like he wan'ed. He plan'ed aaaaall those doubts in yer head, din' he? Made ya' afraid, so ya wouldn't be able ta stand up fer what was right, just what he'd taught ya. An' guess what? It worked."

The room hung in dead silence for a moment, before Shuuhei slammed the taller man against the wall and pinned him there with one hand around the pale throat, his free hand flexing in a fist. Gin, drawing a badly-strained breath, merely stared complacently down at him through slitted eyes.

When the movement came, it was too fast to follow, just a blur of speed and a shattering crunch as Shuuhei's fist impacted.

Silently, he released his hold on Gin's neck, allowing the other man to drop to the floor. Turning back to the still-silent table, he bowed carefully to Urahara as he spoke. "I need to go clear my head, Urahara-san. Please excuse me." Without another word, he turned and left.

Still sitting where Hisagi had dropped him, Gin stared after the lieutenant in bewilderment. The wooden frame of the wall had been reduced to splinters where Shuuhei's fist had struck it, half an inch from Gin's ear.

* * *

Two hours later, Hisagi lay sprawled across the length of a park bench, one hand tucked under his head and one knee drawn up as he stared at the star-scattered sky. The lights from the town interfered with the view, a little, but it was quiet and still, and that should have been enough.

Except it wasn't. His mind had been racing ever since he'd left the shop, one part screaming at him that Gin was a lying bastard that couldn't be trusted, another part - the part that sounded more like Shuuhei normally did - quietly and logically asserting that, lying bastard or not, Gin was right and had a valid point. Unfortunately.

Tousen had planted doubts in all his subordinates minds. And for all his talk of taking the peaceful, bloodless path, the man had been only too willing to help initiate a war, cut down his former comrades, and allow himself to be turned into a monster. It was hard to guess, now, how much of what he'd taught Shuuhei had been a lie. Had Tousen been trying to deceive him, all along, or had Tousen merely been deceiving himself?

"You're gonna bring a pack of Hollows down on your head if you keep leaking reiatsu like that, kid."

Shuuhei sat up, startled. He hadn't heard or sensed the man's approach, which was embarrassing, particularly considering how attuned he was to that particular reiatsu.

"Muguruma-taichou!"

Snorting, the Vizored walked to him, combat boots heavy on the grass. "Don't call me that, kid. Muguruma-taichou's been dead for a century."

"Ah, sorry... Muguruma-san?"

"Kensei."

"Sorry, Kensei-san."

A gusty sigh. "You're hopeless. So what are you doing out here, besides acting like Hollow bait?"

Shuuhei grimaced, drawing his knees up and folding his arms across them. "I'm out here because I _am_ hopeless."

Kensei only stared at him in response - a far cry from the captain of a century before, who would have shouted at him to just _man up and deal with it_. It was hard to decide which one was worse. Shuuhei stared up at the older man, feeling flicker of desperation born somewhere in the mating of his own lack of progress and the silent disapproval Kensei's eerie golden eyes.

"Why won't you come back to the Soul Society?" Shuuhei found himself asking suddenly. "You could take back the Ninth -"

"No."

That single, flat denial stopped Shuuhei's thoughts in their tracks. How was it that one word could carry so much within it? Shaking his head, Kensei walked strode forward and dropped down on the bench, nearly sitting on Shuuhei's toes, and slumped forward, scowling at the grass.

"No, we can't go back, kid. Whole damn Seireitei's nothing better than a stew pot of lies and hypocrisy. And they'd all bow and scrape and call us 'sama' and 'taichou' again, but behind that, they'd all be thinking of us as monsters."

"But you're not -"

Snorting, Kensei drew one hand down in front of his face, miming the gesture he used to call his Hollow mask. "We're not a part of their neat little rules, you know that. And whatever kind of welcome we might get if we went back, it'd all be lies. You know that as well as I do. So, spit it out. What's the problem?"

"I can't reach Bankai," Shuuhei blurted abruptly, and winced. "They want to promote me to Captain of the Ninth, but I can't reach Bankai."

"Well, congratulations, idiot," Kensei snapped, and Shuuhei blinked, startled. "With that attitude, it's no wonder. You spent too much time listening to Kaname. Try listening to Ichigo instead; can the oh-I-can't crap and just _do_ it."

"But I -" Shuuhei began, and bit off the automatic denial, then stopped and shook his head, smiling faintly.

"What's funny?"

"Ichimaru said pretty much the same thing to me, back at the shop."

"Hn. Well, Ichimaru's a sick little freak, always has been, but that doesn't mean he's stupid."

"I realize that, it's just... he said that I was 'exactly what Tousen wanted me to be.' And I don't want to believe that everything Tousen taught me was for the pure purpose of making me easier to betray."

"Probably wasn't," Kensei grunted, shrugging. "Tousen was a damn fool, even back when. Dunno if it's because he's blind, but his philosophy is backwards. Fear doesn't make you a good warrior; if you're afraid of your weapon, you've got no business handling it. Respect it, hell, yes. But don't ever be afraid of your Zanpakutou."

"Easy for you to say."

"You would think so, kid, but it ain't. Tachikaze's a bitch to deal with, most of the wind-element ones are. But I managed, and so can you. And for all his flaws, Gin is a damn good judge of strength, so if he and I both believe you can reach Bankai, then you damn well can, and I suggest you do. It's been a while, but I still know what's best for my Division, and that," Kensei snapped, jabbing a finger at Shuuhei's forehead, "happens to be _you_. Kids like you and that redheaded pineapple are exactly what the Seireitei needs right now; shake 'em up, keep 'em honest, for a change. So you'd better -"

"Oi, Kensei!"

What the hell was it with Visoreds and sneaking up on people? Then again, Kensei's rant could have blocked out a heard of approaching elephants - one skinny Vizored was nothing. "Hirako-tai -"

"You call me 'taichou,' kid, and I go Hollow on your ass," Shinji informed him, strolling forward. Shuuhei bit back the honorific, biting his tongue in the process, and quickly corrected himself.

"Ah, Shinji-san?"

"Whatever. Kensei, Mashiro sent me after you, Lisa's birthday party is starting and she said she doesn't want you missing the strippers."

Beside Shuuhei, Kensei made a noise of wordless disgust, shaking his head. "That idiot. If she tries to get me up with them again this year, I'm gonna..." Apparently unable to think of an effective enough threat, he merely shook his head again.

"You could threaten to have Hachi join the show as well," Shinji suggested, snickering, and Kensei and Hisagi shared a mutual shudder.

"Right, I'm coming," Kensei sighed, pushing himself off the bench to follow the Vizored leader. He paused before he got more than a few steps, though, glancing back at Shuuhei over his shoulder. "Oh, one more thing, kid."

"Sir?"

"Forget what they told you about achieving Bankai. It's not about surpassing your Zanpakutou. It's about surpassing _yourself_."

With that, he turned and strode off, vanishing into the deepening shadows.

Shuuhei stared after him for a long moment, then slowly rose and walked back to Urahara's shop.

* * *

Three days later, Hisagi and Renji stood in front of the Senkaimon, packs over their shoulders. The residents of the Shop were loitering behind them, having already said their farewells.

Even as the gates slid open, Shuuhei glanced back over his shoulder, meeting the narrow gaze of the man standing silently at the far edge of the group, an outcast even among outcasts.

"Oi, Ichimaru!" he called, sharply, and the man's head snapped up, silver eyes widening in slight surprise.

"....thanks," Shuuhei said softly, and, for the first time in his memory, saw a small, genuine smile flicker across Gin's face.

* * *

"No."

"You are quite certain you will not reconsider?" Byakuya asked calmly, not at all perturbed. It was the answer he'd been expecting, after all.

"I most certainly will not. The Kuchiki clan wanted nothing to do with me when I was born; I fail to see why they should have such a drastic change of heart now," she sniffed, looking affronted.

"Regrettably, I cannot ignore the ultimatum the elders have presented to me. And while I have no desire to remarry, I cannot condone the thought of allowing Rukia to be forced into an engagement she would no doubt find equally distasteful. The only remaining option I can see is -"

"Is asking the clan bastards to come back into the fold? That's unlike you, Kuchiki-taichou. And I can't imagine the elders would approve."

He took a delicate sip of his tea before answering. "I did not seek their approval on this matter."

"You came to me before the elders? How flattering."

"There is no need to be sarcastic."

"Kuchiki-taichou, as kind as it is of you to allow me this opportunity, I am afraid I must decline. For one thing, I know it pains you to see the results of your father's adultery. I can't imagine what it must have cost you to make me this offer, and I do thank you. But, I have no desire to accept admission to the clan."

"I admit I expected as much," Byakuya answered, trying not to let the vague weight of disappointment settle too heavily on his shoulders. His half-sister, the result of his father's infidelity, had been one of his few hopes of escaping the stranglehold the clan elders were weaving around his throat.

Even if she was not an acknowledged child of the Kuchiki clan, she had the blood, and their grandfather, Ginrei, had ensured her excellent education after their father's passing. She had joined the Shinigami at a young age, and risen quickly through the ranks to become a respected officer. Bringing her formally into the clan to bear a successor would have at least satisfied the elders, though not pleased them.

Setting her empty cup back down, she regarded him with pale lavender-blue eyes so like his own, and he thought he could detect a hint of pity in their depths. "I'm sorry, Byakuya-san. I wish I could help you, but what you ask of me -"

"I understand," he answered, allowing himself the faintest trace of a smile. "The clan has done little to earn your favor over the years. Thank you for your time."

Taking that as the dismissal it was, Ise Nanao rose, bowed, and left the room.

* * *

...comments?


	6. Where There's Smoke

A/N: I'm not particularly happy with how Kyouraku comes out in this chapter; I have a great deal of respect for him as a Shinigami, and I'm not trying to make him out to be nothing more than a drunken lecher...

Warnings: Some cold medicine was involved when I was writing the first half of this chapter. It shows.

Terminology: A **bokken** is a wooden sword, used for practice. **Kendo** (lit: 'Way of the Sword') - a Japanese martial art based on ancient sword fighting techniques.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Six: Where There's Smoke...

The entire meeting room had fallen silent; all eyes within had turned to Byakuya Kuchiki. The noble stood, defiantly calm, and met the gaze of each of the Captains standing across from him. Komamura shrugged, Zaraki snickered, and Ukitake looked mildly concerned.

"Byakuya, is this suggestion based on your... argument.... with Abarai a few weeks ago?" Ukitake asked, after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Byakuya nodded, perfectly composed. "It is. The argument proved to me that he has begun to see me as a colleague, rather than a master or an obstacle. The time has come."

"_The walrus said_," Hitsugaiya added under his breath. Kyouraku, standing next to him, stifled a laugh, while Mayuri, on Toushirou's other side, rolled his eyes.

The bang of Yamamoto's staff against the floor snapped everyone back to attention. "If there are no further recommendations...?" the Soutaichou growled.

"I recommend Hitsugaiya might stop quoting Lewis Carroll," Kyouraku stage-whispered, and received several dirty looks and a loud sigh from the Captain-Commander.

"You're drunk," Hitsugaiya hissed at the elder Captain, who risked frostbite by patting Toushirou on the head in response.

"And you are quite correct -"

"Please consider the recommendations made to you. We will reconvene at oh-six-hundred three days from now to vote. That is all. Dismissed!!"

* * *

Kira Izuru leaned back against the gnarled bark of a dead tree, and took a moment to indulge in some very pardonable pride. Over the last three weeks, he'd fallen into a surprisingly comfortable routine; waking up by dawn each morning, washing up and bolting down breakfast before going to his office to attend any necessary paperwork until eight a.m. At that point, one-quarter of the squad would gather in the courtyard of the barracks - they were grouped on a rotating schedule so that everyone got enough training in - and he would lead exercises until noon.

Ichigo had been staying in the Third's barracks for the duration of his visit, simply for convenience's sake, and, after his third day there, he'd silently appeared at Kira's side as the lieutenant was beginning his morning rounds. From that day onward, he joined Kira in his office every morning, helping him and Aodawa with the often-overwhelming piles of paperwork that seemed to accumulate nightly.

When eight o'clock rolled around, they would abandon Aodawa to finish the forms while they began drilling the other division members outside. Kira had been only mildly surprised when Ichigo, after watching the - admittedly atrocious - swordsmanship skills of a couple of the unseated officers, had wordlessly removed Zangetsu from his back, taken a bokken from the racks of practice blades, and very calmly stepped in and started drilling them.

Where Ichigo had even learned kendo, Kira had no idea - certainly a blade like Zangetsu wasn't suited to 'normal' techniques - but he couldn't fault Ichigo's performance. The skills of the worst of the unseated officers improved drastically within the first week.

At noon, they would break for a very welcome lunch - breakfast wore thin, when you ate before six - and he and Ichigo would depart for the training field west of Rukongai, where they would stay until it grew dark.

The training wasn't easy; Ichigo still lacked control and refinement, and in the beginning his kidou were as liable to explode on him as they were to hit the target. Kira, who kept himself safe behind a Danku shield - Ichigo had been amazed that quiet little Kira could perform Bakudo 81, without even an incantation - was still battered by Ichigo's reiatsu, which somehow managed to leak over, under, and around a spell that would have stopped all but the most powerful of kidou.

In the first week, Ichigo's tenuous control often proved to be insufficient for handling even the most basic of spells; his first attempt at Hadou number four, Byakurai, had resulted in the blue-white lighting beam backlashing and seriously burning his arm. Kira's healing techniques, combined with the regenerative abilities of the Hollow within Ichigo, allowed the injury to heal without lasting damage, but it had been that incident that drove them to find a new way for Ichigo to learn.

Zangetsu proved to be an immense help. After the disastrous first attempt at Byakurai, they discovered what worked best was if the Zanpakutou locked Ichigo's own energy away from the boy, leaving him with only a fraction of his strength - exactly how he did that, Kira still didn't understand - allowing Ichigo to learn the spells in a more-or-less controlled fashion. Gradually, Zangetsu would release the energy back to his wielder, forcing Ichigo to compensate with stronger and stronger control.

They trained like this for six hours a day, usually; more if Ichigo was feeling particularly stubborn. Kira, drawing from his old habits with Shuuhei, would bring along a large thermos of tea and a few snacks, allowing them to share a companionable meal as the darkness began to fall.

Zangetsu ate, which had surprised Kira at first; he would have expected a Zanpakutou spirit to subside on reiatsu and nothing else, but he had shrugged it off and gamely began bringing enough food for three.

* * *

This morning, their schedule promised to be slightly different. Ukitake had sent a Hell butterfly a few hours before, requesting that they meet him for lunch and a discussion, as well as apologizing for the short notice. Kira wasn't anticipating it to be anything more than an opportunity to evaluate Ichigo's progress.

Still, as they left the Third Division barracks at noon that day, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was in the air. It felt unsettlingly like a tsunami was cresting above him; one without the potential to hurt him, but one carrying the weight of change upon its back.

Foresight wasn't a gift of his, but it didn't stop the feeling of portent that weighed in his stomach.

* * *

"Ah, Kira-kun! Ichigo! I'm so glad you could make it. Please come in, Shunsui was just leaving."

"I was not," the other Captain grumbled from where he lay sprawled across several pillows in the corner of Ukitake's office, hat covering his face. "My own office isn't safe for me."

"It's your own fault Nanao is angry with you, Shun. You should have known she would hear about you showing up drunk to the meeting this morning."

"I show up drunk to all the meetings; nobody notices!"

"That's because they've never seen you sober," Ukitake answered dryly, and Kyouraku tipped his hat back enough to shoot the other a dirty look. "But really, patting Hitsugaiya on the head like that? You're lucky he didn't freeze off something important."

Kyouraku's face paled a shade or two. Still in the doorway, Ichigo and Kira exchanged uncomfortable glances, not entirely sure if they should be finding this funny or stepping out and pretending they hadn't arrived yet.

"You pat him on the head all the time; he's never frozen anything off of you," Kyouraku pointed out, mock-sourly, as he got slowly to his feet.

"Of course not," Ukitake shot back, shaking a finger at the other man and trying not to grin. "I'm the poor, sick, innocent old Captain he thinks is slightly senile. You're a drunken, lecherous pervert with questionable intentions."

"You _must_ be senile if you think I have any 'intentions' towards Hitsugaiya," Kyouraku shot back, gathering his hat off the floor and glancing briefly towards Kira and Ichigo. "Excuse us," he said politely, and before either one of them could react, he strode over to within inches of Ukitake and held the hat up, blocking their view of his and Ukitake's faces.

As effective a visual barrier as the hat might have been, it didn't stop Jyuushiro's soft moan or Shunsui's appreciative sigh from reaching the ears of the two younger Shinigami - or the sounds of the deepening kiss.

Kira, meanwhile, had turned his shoulder to the pair and was politely pretending to inspect the doorframe. Ichigo, caught completely off-guard, stared wide-eyed at the hat, torn between astonishment and mortification.

When Kyouraku and Ukitake parted a moment later, the Captain of the Eighth plopped his hat calmly back on his head and strolled out with a nod for Kira and Ichigo, whistling a jaunty tune as he went.

"I... ah... sorry, about Shunsui," Ukitake offered awkwardly, still grinning. His cheeks were tinged lightly pink and his lips were faintly swollen; he looked, however, healthier than Ichigo had ever seen him.

Kira merely shrugged, quite unbothered, while Ichigo gaped at him, still at an utter loss for words.

"You... he... you're...."

"Shunsui and I have been together for several centuries, Kurosaki-san," Ukitake explained calmly, somehow extracting the question from Ichigo's monosyllabic stammers. When Ichigo continued to gape, Kira subtly kicked him in the ankle on his way into the room.

"Ow, shit, Kira!"

"Is the idea of two men together really that shocking to you?" Ukitake asked, busy laying out the tea service on the nearby table. The question wasn't accusatory, merely curious, and looked towards Ichigo with genuine interest as he awaited his answer.

"It's... no, I mean, not really. It just... usually guys in the Living world that are together aren't so..."

"Blatant?" Ukitake offered wryly, and Ichigo nodded. "Shunsui is simply like that; it's something I've come to accept and expect."

"He is kinda... over the top."

Busy pouting boiling water into three cups, Ukitake laughed softly. "He confessed to me not long after we left the Academy. All through our years there, I'd watched him sleep his way through half the women in the Soul Society and thought nothing of it. But after I suffered an acute attack of my disease, I woke up to find him sitting next to my hospital bed, clinging to my hand with tears running down his face. When I asked him what was wrong, he said to me, 'I thought I had lost the love of my life.' " Jyuushiro chuckled mildly, passing the cups to his guests before settling on a pillow. "It took me a while to realize that he was talking about me."

"But, wait," Ichigo began, brow crinkling in confusion, "the way he flirts with that lieutenant of his...."

"It's a game." The softly-spoken answer came from not from Ukitake but from Kira, who had already settled himself comfortably at the table.

"Quite right," Ukitake nodded, smiling his approval. "Shunsui likes to flirt; it's just part of his nature. He likes to make women feel attractive and wanted. Giving them pleasure - even if it is emotional rather than physical - gives him pleasure as well. And he teases Nanao because she's so uptight," he added with a chuckle. "Not to mention that Shunsui has a mildly masochistic streak; I think he likes getting hit with that book of hers."

Ichigo didn't have a chance to respond to that, because the Thirteenth's two Third seats chose that moment to exclaim from the doorway that they had brought lunch, just as Ukitake requested. Watching the man field the chaos that was his officers was enough to drive all thoughts of the previous few minutes out of Ichigo's mind, if temporarily, and he settled down to eat with good appetite.

* * *

"So, what was it that you wanted to see us about?" Ichigo asked some time later, setting the last of his dishes aside. The lunch had been exquisite; he rather hoped he wouldn't have to return to training immediately, given the fullness of his stomach. Beside Ichigo, Kira quietly set aside his empty plate and focused his full attention on the Captain.

"Actually, it concerns something that was discussed at the Captain's meeting this morning," Ukitake answered, and launched into an explanation.

Five minutes later, Ichigo's head was spinning. "Me? Why me? I'm not -"

"Qualified? That's why you were brought here for your current training, Ichigo. The reports I've been receiving on your progress with kidou are better than we had dared hope, and your interactions with the Third Division have been excellent. You may not be qualified in the conventional sense, but you are exactly what is needed at the moment."

Jaw tight, Ichigo stared back at Ukitake for a long minute, before abruptly turning to face Kira. "What do you think?" he demanded.

Caught off-guard, Kira stared back at him for a moment, unable to reply. Ichigo was asking _his_ opinion? Of an order from the soutaichou?

"The Third is your Squad, Kira. Nothing and nobody is gonna change that, least of all me," Ichigo continued, his eyes burning with that stubborn passion that Kira recognized only too well. "If you don't approve of this idea, then I'll go straight to Yamamoto and tell him just where he can stuff that proposal of his."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Kira asked in disbelief. This boy, this _child_, was willing to go head-to-head with the most powerful man in the Soul Society just to protect Kira's pride. It was astonishing.

"Of course, just said so, didn't I?"

"You did," Kira answered, smiling in amazement. "But that's not necessary. I think it's an excellent idea."

"You're taking this awfully calmly," Ichigo muttered. "You know something I didn't?"

Sheepish now, Kira half-shrugged in response. "I guessed. The writing was on the wall; I'd been suspecting something like this would happen since the first day of your training."

"Well, I feel stupid," Ichigo informed the room at large, and went back to drinking his tea.

* * *

Two days later, Shuuhei and Renji returned from the World of the Living.

* * *

"Oy, Kira! Ichigo!"

Startled, Ichigo almost dropped the glowing sphere of red light he'd been holding. Only at the last second did he retain the presence of mind to drive the kidou away from him, striking a tall pile of rock fragments some fifty feet to the left of the one he was supposed to be aiming at.

As soon as the spell had exploded and dispersed, Ichigo wheeled on the two intruders with a face full of wrath. "You dipshits! What the hell are you trying to do, make me blow myself to pieces?"

"Psh," Renji snorted, dropping easily out of the tree he'd been balancing in, "I have Shakkahou blow up in my face all the time."

"Yeah, well, that's you, isn't it? Mine's a hell of a lot stronger!"

"Yeah, right."

"You wanna bet?"

"Sure! Loser buys the first round of drinks."

"I don't drink, dumbass, I'm underage!"

"Y'can still cough up money, right?"

Ten feet away, behind the safety of the Danku shield, Kira and Hisagi exchanged small smiles.

"You look good."

It was a startling observation, even more so coming from the often-distant and quiet Shuuhei, and Kira was amazed when he felt his cheeks warm. Was he _blushing_? "Thank you," he answered softly, blinking up at Shuuhei. "So do you."

It was true - some innate change had come over Hisagi in the weeks he'd been gone. He looked calmer; not the cold, artificial calm he'd often exuded after Tousen's betrayal, but something more like... peace. There was a spark at the back of his eyes that Kira hadn't seen in decades, not since he'd first seen Shuuhei back at the Academy, before the Hollow had scarred Hisagi's face and spirit.

For the first time in half a century, he looked like he was _whole_ again.

"You look good," Kira repeated, feeling like a bit of an idiot, hoping that the red-tinted light of the sunset helped to conceal his blush. He was almost thankful when Renji started chanting, loudly enough to drown out anything else he might have said.

"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south! _Shakkahou_!" The sphere of crimson flame erupted from Renji's palm, soaring over the shattered wastes of the training ground to strike the target Ichigo had set up, engulfing it in crimson flame. When the smoke cleared, a hole five feet wide had been burned cleanly through the column of rock.

"Not bad," Ichigo remarked mildly, arching his eyebrows. Renji preened, looking smug, until Ichigo half-turned to glance behind him. "Oy, Zangetsu-ossan!"

Still sitting silently in the shadows beneath the ragged tree line, the Zanpakutou raised his head to meet Ichigo's gaze.

"Gimme thirty percent."

"As you wish," Zangetsu answered, and closed his eyes. A second later, the air around them hummed softly with Ichigo's reiatsu; more controlled, more tempered than it had been even yesterday.

Turning back to the field, Ichigo carefully raised his hands, wrapping his left hand around his right wrist, centering his palm against the distant stone. "Hadou, thirty-one," he intoned, his voice low and calm. "Shakkahou."

A small sun erupted in his palm and hurtled towards the target.

When the smoke cleared, the pillar of rock - thirty feet tall and ten wide - was utterly gone.

Permitting himself a smug grin, Ichigo punched a flabbergasted Renji lightly in the shoulder. "Looks like you're buying."

* * *

END NOTES:

*The time has come/The walrus said - a line from Lewis Carroll's poem _The Walrus and the Carpenter_, as appears in Alice in Wonderland. I once memorized it for a high school English assignment, and to this day I cannot hear the phrase 'the time has come' without adding 'the walrus said.' Presumably, Ukitake loaned a copy of Carroll's work to Hitsugaiya.

NEXT CHAPTER may be posted early; I am leaving for vacation early on the 20th and I'm not sure about the state of the Internet in the hotel I'm staying at.

Also, I just can't wait for you guys to read Ch. 7. It's my favorite chapter in the first half of the story.


	7. Change Comes

A/N: Being posted early, as I am leaving Sunday morning for a week-long vacation in Florida, (dances). I didn't want to leave you guys hanging, and it will also be a _huge_ treat to check into the hotel, flop down on a bed I don't have to make, and read all of your great reviews, ;-).

This is also my absolute favorite chapter in the first half of the story. I know most of you have already worked out where things have been headed, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

Warnings: Language, and sake makes Shuuhei and Kira's clothes fall off. (This is actually canon - see episode 63!)

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Seven: Change Comes

* * *

"Thirty percent, he says, an' he blows the whole fuckin' thing away," Renji groaned, flopping backwards on the couch, miraculously managing not to spill any of the sake in his still-full cup.

The others in the room simply nodded; it was at least the fourth time Renji had repeated that same phrase, and they were starting to tune it out.

* * *

After Renji and Ichigo's impromptu standoff, Renji had reluctantly confessed that, having been in the World of the Living until that morning, he didn't have his paycheck yet and couldn't afford to spring for drinks. It had been Shuuhei's suggestion that they round up Matsumoto and beg a bit of her alcohol, since she begged all of hers from Kyouraku anyway.

So, the foursome (Zangetsu attending only in inanimate form) had ventured back to the Tenth Division and sought out Hitsugaiya, politely inquiring whether they could borrow Matsumoto for the night.

"By all means, do. It's not as though she's doing me any good," he'd answered sourly, scrawling his signature across the last piece of paperwork on his desk and slapping it triumphantly into the 'Out' box. "In fact, you can take the office for the night, as long as you promise not to destroy anything. It'll save Rangiku transporting her sake stash."

The lieutenant in question had attempted - with very limited success - to look innocent, an endeavor that might have been more successful if one of the bottles in question hadn't already been perched on the corner of her desk.

Hitsugaiya had rolled his eyes and taken himself and his paperwork out, bidding the quintet a cross goodnight. The door hadn't even shut behind him before Matsumoto produced enough cups for everyone, Ichigo included, and started pouring drinks.

* * *

Over the next three hours, Shuuhei and Kira somehow wound up stripped down to their fundoshi, Renji lost his hair tie and bandana and gotten both his kosode and his shitagi unfastened, leaving his chest bare. Matsumoto, for a change, was the most fully dressed of the four lieutenants, although her pink scarf had somehow migrated to Zangetsu's hilt through a process nobody recalled.

Ichigo - who had indulged only in a few cups of sake and only because he was more-or-less forced to do so - quietly took his leave around midnight, when the others were intoxicated enough not to notice, with every intention of returning to his room at the Third's barracks to sleep.

He wasn't expecting to run smack into Byakuya three steps outside the door of the Tenth. Obviously those few cups of sake he'd had were affecting him more seriously than he'd realized.

"Sorry," he managed, taking a careful step back. "Am I drunk, or are you suppressing your reiatsu?"

"Both," came the terse response. "Renji is indulging with Matsumoto, Hisagi, and Kira?"

"Yeah..." Why was the man asking him? Couldn't he tell by sensing out their reiatsu? Or, if he wanted to take the lowly human course of action, by looking in the window?

"Excellent. Return to your quarters; someone will be around to wake you at six. Your attendance will be required at the meeting tomorrow."

Maybe it was the alcohol, but it seemed to Ichigo that the Kuchiki heir was being more obscure than usual. "Run that by me again? What meeting?"

"Ukitake was supposed to inform you of the matter earlier."

"Oh. That. He did, yeah. I have to go to the meeting?"

Byakuya closed his eyes, briefly; had he been a lesser man, he no doubt would have been massaging away the headache forming in his temples. "Someone will collect you in the morning, Kurosaki. Until then, it would be wisest if you went to bed."

"Right. Will do. G'night!" Ichigo mumbled, and meandered off in the general direction of the Third. As soon as he was out of earshot, Byakuya unbent enough to let an exasperated sigh escape. It was going to be a very long day.

"Are you still so certain about this little plan of yours, Kuchiki?" inquired a dry voice from above him. Taking a step back, Byakuya tipped his head up to meet the cool aqua gaze of Hitsugaiya, settled comfortably on the roof over his office.

"Complete certainty is a luxury not even nobility can afford," he quoted in response, earning himself an eyeroll from the young captain. "However, I believe it will be effective, yes."

"You just want to see Abarai's face when he learns the news."

"I have never denied that."

Hitsugaiya smirked slightly, then vanished from the roof in a flicker of shunpo, reappearing at Byakuya's side. "They've drunk themselves into oblivion by now. I'm heading for bed."

Closing his eyes briefly, the older captain carefully tested the vibrations of reiatsu emanating from within the office, finding all of them subdued with alcohol-induced unconsciousness. "A wise idea. I will see you in the morning, Hitsugaiya. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Someone was stabbing him in the eyeballs. It was not comfortable.

Groaning slightly, Shuuhei rolled over, ignoring the roiling in his stomach and throwing an arm over his face to protect it from the stabbing. Gentle heat against his skin suggested that it might be the sun attempting to do injury to his eyeballs, not that it mattered. Either way, it fucking hurt.

And he could feel polished hardwood flooring under almost every inch of his body, save a rather critical few, which meant he was essentially naked. _Again_.

That, combined with the throbbing head and rebelling stomach, informed him that he'd had a very good time with a sake bottle last night, and it was probably for the best that he didn't remember any of it. He wound up losing most of his clothing every time he got drunk, although he could never remember why, or how. It was just another of those annoying side effects.

A low, familiar groan off to one side suggested that he was not the only one experiencing this painfully familiar predicament.

"Some night, eh, Izuru?" he rasped, using the alcohol and the hour to excuse the long-forgotten familiarity of the first name in his mind.

"I'd tell you, but I don't remember," came the rather fuzzy-sounding reply.

A beat or two went by, Hisagi smiling under his arm, before another familiar voice shattered the silence.

"Aw, fuck. Kuchiki-taichou's gonna kill me if I show up for work with a hangover."

"Thaa' juss means 'e cares, Renji-kuuuun...." slurred Matsumoto's voice from a more distant point in the room. She didn't sound hung over - she sounded like she was still drunk.

Lucky her.

"Well, this is utterly disgraceful."

Shit. Unlucky her. Unlucky all of them. Shuuhei tried to sit up, very quickly, only to find that he'd somehow manage to insinuate his head under something low to the ground and painfully hard on the underside. Cursing under his breath, he dropped back against the floor and waited for the stars to fade from the inside of his eyelids.

Had he opened his eyes and managed to get a straight line of sight towards the entrance, he would have seen the painfully intimidating sight of Byakuya Kuchiki, Toushirou Hitsugaiya, and Ichigo Kurosaki, all perfectly groomed and dressed, standing in the doorway of Hitsugaiya's office with expressions ranging from humor (on Ichigo) to outright contempt (on Kuchiki, of course).

"And I thought I was in bad shape this morning," Ichigo muttered, shaking his head faintly.

"Not to worry, I'll get them up," Hitsugaiya's hand moved back, reaching behind his head to grasp Hyorinmaru's hilt. Drawing the blade an inch or two out of it's sheath, he raised his other hand towards the occupants of the room.

* * *

Captains or no captains, Kira was on the verge of going back to sleep, if only to escape the headache beating against the back of his eyes.

That was, at least, until something VERY COLD shot down his back and nestled itself between his buttocks. Yelping, he scrambled to his feet, bouncing up and down in order to dislodge the chunk of ice from his fundoshi. Out of the corners of his eyes, he was vaguely aware of Renji and Shuuhei performing a similarly frantic dance, while Matsumoto - quite heedless of the fact there were six men in the room - emptied several small ice chunks out of the front of her top.

* * *

A passing group of lower seats in the hallway stopped, concerned by the chorus of strangled shrieks and yelps emanating from Hitsugaiya-taichou's office, but upon seeing three white-cloaked figures glowering from the doorway, hastily turned and found business at the other end of the corridor.

* * *

"Now that you're all awake..." Hitsugaiya said dryly, once the four in his office had stopped doing their marvelous impersonations of rabid kangaroos on hot coals.

If looks could kill, the ice-wielding captain would have been reduced to a smoldering pile of cinders.

"There is a joint Taichou/Fukutaichou meeting beginning in an hour and a half. I suggest the lot of you make good use of that time and get yourselves cleaned up. Presumably, you all know the way to the division baths?"

Given that this was not the group's first time drinking with Matsumoto after hours, they were quite aware of the layout of the Tenth's barracks. Taking the decidedly unsubtle suggestion, they silently queued up and shuffled their way past the trio standing in the doorway.

His face cool, Byakuya handed Renji a clean uniform as he passed, while Ichigo did the same for Kira. Hitsugaiya slapped fresh shihakusho into the hands of Shuuhei and Matsumoto. It was a time-saving courtesy, as it negated the need for them to scatter back to their own respective quarters in order to retrieve a change of clothes.

* * *

Fresh-scrubbed and still damp, Renji was rubbing a towel through his hair with one hand while he shook out the fresh uniform with the other. It seemed oddly heavy, he noticed distantly, but thought nothing of it as he unfurled the bundle of black and white fabric.

Until he realized there was _far_ too much white.

"...the fuck...?" he breathed, extracting the unfamiliar piece of clothing and staring at it for the space of three heartbeats.

He dropped it as though his hands had been burned.

"There's no way... there's no fucking way... Kuchiki-taichou!" Clutching a towel around his waist, he bolted into the hallway outside of the baths, narrowly avoiding a collision with the man he needed to see. "Sir, there's been some sort of mistake, you gave me -"

"A Captain's haori. I am aware."

"But -"

"The vote was taken this morning," Byakuya informed him, a genuine smile playing across his mouth for the first time in Renji's memory. "Congratulations, Renji. The Fifth Division is in your hands."

* * *

"I do not fucking believe it," Renji whispered harshly, a few minutes later. He'd returned to the men's bath to dress, but as of yet he couldn't bring himself to don the white haori that lay draped carefully over the bench.

It meant everything. All that he'd worked so long and fought so hard for. It meant he could finally stand up beside his Captain as an equal, or something close to it.

And he couldn't bring himself to put it on.

"You'd better stop agonizing over it, kohai. It's not going away."

Snorting, Renji glanced up, then blinked twice as he took in the Shuuhei's appearance.

"Suits you," he said after a long pause, and Shuuhei grinned at him, the expression fierce even though his eyes were sad.

The haori of the Captain of the Ninth hung easily over Hisagi's shoulders.

A thought struck him, and Renji turned to face the last member of their little group. Kira was standing a short distance away, finger-combing his hair in front of the mirror. His plain black shihakusho seemed dim in the shadowy room, and Renji felt his throat tighten.

"Kira, you..."

"Hm?" Turning, the blond blinked at him, noticed the question and the sorrow on his face. "You didn't notice?"

"Notice... what?"

"Ichigo, earlier."

Renji blinked, forcing his still-addled brain to rewind the events of the past half-hour. "I know he was there, what about him?"

Kira sighed in exasperation. "You didn't notice the haori?"

Shock lanced through Renji so abruptly that it left him numb. "_What_?!"

"They've given Ichigo captaincy of the Third," Kira reiterated calmly, giving the back of his hair one final pat and drying his hands on a towel. "And don't start!" he added, seeing Renji open his mouth. "It's a temporary measure, and it's for the best. I can't manage the Division on my own, not yet. The Captains decided that he should step in long enough for me to get to Captain level." Pausing momentarily, Kira felt a faint smile flicker over his mouth. "And the first thing Ichigo did when he heard they were promoting him was ask me how _I_ felt about it, because if it didn't suit me, he was willing to go tell Yamamoto-sama where to stuff it."

Despite himself, Renji found a grin breaking over his face as well. "He would, too, that punk. So you're really okay with this?"

"Yes," Kira answered firmly, and Renji believed him.

Taking a deep breath, the former fukutaichou of the Sixth took his future in his hands. The fabric of it was heavy, but somehow, it still felt right.


	8. Reason to Believe

A/N: Returning to our Regularly Scheduled Posting! Huge thanks to everyone who offered their well-wishes for my vacation; I did, finally, get down to Florida in the very wee hours of Monday morning, and we had a wonderful time. (I hardly need explain that I was *not* at Sea World; my sympathies to everyone affected by that.)

No warnings for this chapter other than a smidgin of angst.

Translation Notes: Sanseki - Third Seat

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Eight: Reason to Believe

"I'll announce her."

"No, I'll announce her."

"I just said I'd announce her, you fat slob!"

"And I said _I_ would, you little snot!"

Giving only the faintest of sighs - a habit she had picked up from her brother, had she but known it - Rukia slipped silently between the two bickering Third-seats and rapped on the doorframe herself.

"Come in!"

Kotsubaki and Kotetsu both stopped short and stared at her, expressions caught somewhere between bewildered surprise and dismayed betrayal. Rukia very carefully ignored them both, tugged the door open, and slipped inside.

"Ah, Kuchiki! Just the person I've been wanting to see. Come, sit down, I need to speak to you."

A bit warily, Rukia settled herself on a cushion before Ukitake's desk, the same one that Ichigo had taken not long ago. "How may I be of service, Taichou?"

He smiled at her, wordlessly pouring tea from the steaming pot that always seemed present behind his desk, then produced a plate of dango from seemingly nowhere, offering her both. She took them, mostly for the sake of politeness, and nibbled absently at the sweet dumpling.

"Kuchiki, you've been with the Thirteenth for nearly a half a century now," he began calmly. "During that time, I have watched your development very carefully. You are growing into a remarkably powerful Shinigami. When you graduated from the Academy, I was fully prepared to offer you a seated position; however your brother... rather disagreed with that plan of action," he said, laughing softly, and Rukia nodded, feeling bewildered. The fact that Byakuya had stepped in to prevent her obtaining a high rank, hoping to protect her, was something her brother had explained to her some time ago.

Guilt-ridden after her near execution, he'd broken down - at least, by Byakuya's standards, he'd broken down, which meant his eyes and voice had softened - and explained to her everything about her past that she had never known, from the first moment he'd seen Hisana to the day of Rukia's execution.

"I realize now that perhaps Byakuya's request was for the best," Ukitake continued, absently moving to pour himself another cup of tea, and frowning when the pot dripped empty, "as you were under quite enough stress at the time, trying to adapt to your new status in the Kuchiki house.

"However, I can't dispute that Kaien and I both took a liking to you when you joined our squad. He was eager for you to learn everything he could teach you, hoping your brother could be persuaded to a more reasonable state of mind when you began to display your prowess."

Neither of them needed to speak the next thoughts aloud. She'd been in the Thirteenth less than two years before that horrible night when Kaien had died, spitted on Sode no Shirayuki's blade. She hadn't had a chance to display a whole lot of prowess, and after that night... well, some things just don't come when your heart is heavy.

"However, since The Ichigo Incident, you've shown remarkable progress."

'The Ichigo Incident.' That was what everyone had taken to calling her empowering Ichigo - the trigger that set in motion Aizen's betrayal and the Winter War. It had been the beginning of the brutal domino effect that had come so terrifyingly near killing them all, though they had somehow managed to escape.

"Your skills in kidou have continued to improve, and with all the experience you've had, you're becoming an excellent field officer."

"Thank you, sir."

"The truth is," Ukitake continued, dropping out of sight momentarily as he fished for something in the lower drawers of his desk, "Ah! Here it is... The truth is, Kuchiki, you're being wasted as an unseated officer. And, incredibly enough," the polished wooden box Ukitake had lifted out was placed on the desktop with a thump, "your brother agrees with me on that."

At a loss for words, Rukia stared at the wooden box, rather than gawping at her Captain like a clubbed fish. Nii-sama? Was willing to let her take a seated position??

"We discussed it the other day, and he agrees you are ready to take on the responsibilities you deserve." Quietly, Ukitake slid the box across the desk to her.

The Thirteenth Division's flower symbol - the summer snowdrop - was carved into the glossy cherrywood with careful precision. Staring at it, Rukia felt a knot clench itself in her chest.

"Sir, is that..."

"Just open it, Kuchiki."

Her hands were shaking so badly she almost couldn't obey. Carefully, she turned the lid back, feeling tears begin to well in her eyes as she laid eyes on the box's contents for the first time in over forty years.

The Lieutenant's badge of the Thirteenth Squad.

Kaien's badge.

"You..." her voice cracked, and she had to stop, swallow, before she could speak again, still staring down at the dull gleam of brass. "You want to promote me to Lieutenant?"

"Yes," Ukitake answered frankly, watching her with a steady gaze. "Truth be told, since Kaien's death, the only person I have considered promoting to his place has been you, Rukia."

Shocked, watery eyes snapped up to meet his own, and Ukitake permitted himself a careful smile. "It's what he would have wanted for you, you know."

"Probably not how he would have hoped me to get it," Rukia countered with a rather damp chuckle, but she reached into the box and withdrew the badge with trembling hands. "You're certain of this, sir?"

"Quite. I wouldn't have made the offer otherwise."

The sounds of a rising argument outside cut off any reply Rukia might have made, and, seconds later, the door was knocked sideways on it's track by the two struggling forms that bounced through it, both shouting at the tops of their lungs.

"Me!"

"ME!"

"Like you have the slightest chance, you stinky rhinoceros!"

"More chance than you, you scrawny little weasel!"

Ukitake dropped his head into his hands with a groan. "Not to mention," he added, only just loud enough for Rukia to hear him over the Third Seat's squabbling, "I need someone younger and more spry than myself to help me keep those two in check."

"Fat goat!"

"Boney rodent!"

"That's ENOUGH!" Rukia shouted, causing everyone, Ukitake included, to jump. Rising to her feet, she glowered down at the two sprawled officers. "The pair of you are a disgrace! Not only do you dishonor the Squad with your incessant arguments, but you are driving Ukitake-taichou to distraction!"

Kiyone and Sentarou both paled dramatically. Evidently it had never occurred to them that they were causing their beloved captain any difficulties, although a blind monkey probably wouldn't have had a problem pointing the fact out to them.

"In the future, you will divide your duties equally and politely between you. This pointless arguing will cease from this point on, is that understood?"

"Sir!" both Thirds answered in unison, clearly more out of shock and habit than anything else, because a heartbeat went by before Sentarou abruptly demanded, "Hey, wait a minute, since when can you boss us around?!"

"Since she was promoted to lieutenant earlier this morning," Ukitake answered, gazing into his empty teapot so that the two Thirds couldn't see the smile twitching at the edges of his mouth.

Two jaws dropped.

Kiyone, predictably, was the first to recover. "Congratulations, Kuchiki-fukutaichou! I want to be the first to offer -"

"Hey, I want to be first!"

"I was already first, you stinky -"

"HEY!"

Both of them gave a decidedly undignified eeping sound before falling silent.

"Thank you. Now, Kotetsu-sanseki, please retrieve Ukitake-taichou a fresh pot of tea. Kotsubaki-sanseki, the lower seats' morning reports should be ready to pick up. Please go and get them."

"Sir!" they replied, and were promptly gone.

Rukia stared after them for a second, feeling a niggle of worry sneak into her. Had she been too strict? Turning back to her Captain, she had just begun to speak when she noticed Ukitake's shoulders were trembling. A heartbeat of panic passed before she realized it wasn't a muffled coughing fit he was shaking from; it was muffled laughter.

The expression on her face was evidently too much for him, because he lost all control at that moment and burst into a hearty wave of laughter that Rukia, after a moment, found herself joining.

"Ah, Kuchiki," he chuckled a long moment later, wiping his eyes on the edge of his sleeve, "I think that promoting you is going to prove to be one of my wisest decisions in quite some time."

* * *

Feeling a little nervous, Renji tugged at the white haori flowing from his shoulders for the third time in as many minutes.

"You're going to fray it," Shuuhei chastised him, swatting at Renji's hands and earning himself a punch in the shoulder in return.

"Che, how come you look so comfortable in yours?" Renji demanded irritably, waving a hand in Hisagi's direction. Indeed, his senpai moved as though the haori had been a part of his uniform for decades, rather than minutes. The underside of it, a rich, royal blue, was far more suited to Shuuhei's coloring than the tan Tousen had worn.

"Trust me, it doesn't weigh so much when it's already been on your shoulders for a while."

"Ya don't need to be cryptic about it. I know how to lead a squad, geez, Kuchiki-taichou leaves me in charge of the Sixth enough. I just... never figured it'd be like this," Renji muttered back, tugging at his own haori again. It didn't sit quite right through the shoulders - whether that was him or the haori needed tailoring, he couldn't be sure. The underside of his was emerald-green, which contrasted strikingly with his hair, and provided a marked difference from the milky pale-green that Aizen had sported.

"You deserve it, though," Kira said softly from behind them. "You've come a long way."

"Yeah, sure," Renji muttered, finally stuffing his hands into the sash of his hakama so that he'd stop fiddling. "I just... why now? Do they really think I'm ready?"

"If they didn't," Shuuhei pointed out, "they wouldn't have promoted you. The Gotei can't afford incompetent captains right now - morale is low and our numbers are down. They're promoting us because they believe we can lead the most damaged Divisions in the Seireitei effectively."

Hisagi had taken three more steps before he realized that neither Renji nor Kira were following him any longer; turning back, he found them both stopped dead in the hallway, staring at him with looks of astonishment on their faces.

"What?"

"Hisagi-senpai, what happened to you back in the World of the Living?" Renji finally asked, his eyes wide with amazement. "Because when you took off from Urahara's that night, I almost figured you'd disappeared for good. I sure as hell wasn't expecting you to come back and take on that three-day training of his. Even Ichigo almost died doing that; and you -"

"I had a good talk with an old friend, that's all."

"Hell of a friend," came the low mutter, and Shuuhei snorted in agreement.

"He is. Told me to stop whining, put my head on straight, and trust that others had a good measure of my strength and talent."

Renji blinked, rubbed the back of his neck, and finally nodded, a slow, thoughtful movement. It had stunned him, hearing the sharp, unshakeable confidence in the voice of his former senpai, when Hisagi had been on the verge of giving up only days before. Whoever that friend was - and he had a fair guess - he had done Shuuhei a world of good with his advice. "Guess he's right."

"Yeah," Shuuhei answered, "he is." Walking back to Renji and the still-silent Kira, he looped an arm over each of their shoulders, and the three made their way back to Hitsugaiya's office.

* * *

When they got there, they found Ichigo, Hitsugaiya, and Matsumoto present, the latter already washed and redressed, halfway through a bottle of Unohana's hangover remedy. They noticed, with no small relief, that there were three more bottles of the horrid stuff on Matsumoto's desk. It was a syrup-thick, tongue-curlingly bitter brew, but it was unquestionably effective, and they downed their doses without complaint.

"Feeling better?" Hitsugaiya asked when they'd finished, with only the most mild of sarcasm. He was already at his desk and elbow-deep in paperwork; how the paperwork had gotten there when the couriers weren't even running yet, none of them were sure.

"Thank you, Hitsugaiya-taichou, yes," Hisagi answered calmly. "What time is the joint meeting?"

"It begins in forty-five minutes. Don't be late."

"No, sir," he answered quickly, giving the younger captain a polite, if brief bow before making a beeline for the door.

"Oi!" Renji shouted after him. "Where are you going?"

"To deal with something you don't have to worry about!" Hisagi snapped back, and was gone before Renji could ask anything more.

When the redhead started for the door, intending to drag Shuuhei back by his new haori and demand a better answer than that, Hitsugaiya's sharp voice halted him in his tracks. "Abarai, Kuchiki said to tell you he will speak to you tonight, after hours. You are to meet him in his office."

"Ah, thank you, sir." Glancing around the office, Renji ignored his faint sense of disappointment. His captain - rather, his former captain - had disappeared after congratulating him, presumably back to the Sixth to attend the Division and his paperwork. Renji had rather hoped that Byakuya would have lingered long enough to give them a chance to speak together.

Another time, apparently.

Ichigo was still present, sipping tea while perched awkwardly on the corner of Matsumoto's desk, since the woman in question had already taken possession of the couch. Kira shot his new Captain - Ichigo, a Captain! This would take getting used to - a faintly sympathetic smile, and Ichigo flashed him one in response. That in itself was reassuring to Renji, a sign that his quiet friend wouldn't be overwhelmed by the Substitute's formidable personality.

Maybe Kira would finally lose that woebegone, haunted look he'd acquired under Ichimaru. One thing was for certain, Ichigo wouldn't let him get away with feeling sorry for himself, the way he'd been doing since Gin's betrayal.

_'They trust us to lead the most damaged Divisions in the Seireitei.'_ Shuuhei's words echoed grimly in Renji's mind, and he stifled a grimace. He and Ichigo - the two with the least experience at actual captaining - were being handed the reigns of the two squads still suffering the most from Aizen's betrayal.

The Third, having spent so long under Ichimaru's thumb, were practically jumping at their own shadows. And the Fifth... the Fifth was probably the worst off of them all. It would take them years, if not decades, before they were willing to trust that what their senses told them was the truth and not an illusion.

"Why us?" Renji muttered softly, slumping against Matsumoto's desk, next to Ichigo. "Why the two least experienced of the candidates for the most damaged squads?"

"Because you're exactly what they need, Abarai."

Hitsugaiya still hadn't looked up from his paperwork, and his brush never slowed it's dance over the sheets as he spoke. "Kurosaki is taking over a division that is accustomed to a captain eternally smiling, eternally lying, always hiding in the shadows."

"...and Ichigo never smiles, won't lie, and can't hide his reiatsu if his life depends on it?" Renji realized after a moment, earning himself a smack upside the head from Ichigo.

"Exactly. And you take over the division of a man who eternally faded into the background, doing his best to be invisible and forgettable ."

"Because Renji's the farthest thing from invisible; nobody's gonna forget this hair," Ichigo remarked, tugging the end of Renji's ponytail to prove his point; Renji punched him lightly in the shoulder and Ichigo snorted a laugh.

"Yes. In choosing candidates, we attempted to select those who were not only qualified - and you _are_ qualified, Abarai, make no mistake - but ones who are the direct opposite of the traitors they were once lead by. There is to be no basis for comparison to the old captains."

"Makes sense, I guess," Renji answered slowly. "I just... I guess I'm still having a hard time believing I was recommended, let alone promoted. I wouldn't have thought Kuchiki-taichou would have that much faith in me."

Hitsugaiya snorted. "He's the one who submitted your name, idiot."

Renji nearly fell off the desk in shock.

"And beyond that, the only captain who did _not_ submit a vote in support of your promotions was Kurotsuchi, not that it mattered anyway."

By this point, Renji was doing a very credible imitation of a stunned fish. "_All_ of them... wait, _you_...?!"

"Yes, me, Abarai. Don't think too highly of yourself, though. I submitted recommendations for Kurosaki and Hisagi as well."

"Still, I..." Shaking his head, Renji finally snapped his mouth shut, stood up, and gave a deep, respectful bow. "Thank you, Hitsugaiya-taichou."

"Oh, don't thank me yet, Abarai. See how you feel after a few weeks of leading the Fifth."

* * *

It was easier, Shuuhei realized, to seek among the mingled reiatsu drifting above the Seireitei for the wild, jagged energy of Ikkaku Madarame than it was to look for the quieter, far-more-restrained pressure of the one he was actually seeking. The pair were joined at the hip anyway; wherever Ikkaku was, his friend was bound to be not far behind.

Closing his eyes, he reached out with his own reiatsu, almost immediately finding the sharp-edged power. Even a casual brush against that energy told him without a doubt how strong Madarame was; really, how the man thought nobody knew about his Bankai was beyond Shuuhei. He might as well have had it written in neon on the back of his shining head.

Pushing off, he launched into a slow shunpo, heading in Ikkaku's direction. If people were surprised to see a flicker of white going by on the rushing wave of Hisagi's reiatsu, he didn't linger long enough to find out.

* * *

It took him less than three minutes of searching to find the duo strolling in no particular direction outside the walls of the Eleventh. Ikkaku had Hozukimaru slung over one shoulder and was whistling tunelessly, while the other good-naturedly berated him for 'disturbing such a beautiful morning with that ugly noise.'

Both of them paused, half-turning back to face him as he landed lightly on top of the walls. Saluting them briefly, he glanced beyond Ikkaku at the man he'd come seeking.

"Oi, Ayasegawa."

* * *

Reviews are love.


	9. Secrets and Truths

A/N: To everyone who asked if this story was going to be angling towards Shuu/Yumi; sorry to disappoint! Both of the above will be paired off, but not with each other. The observant will already have noticed who I'm pairing Shuuhei with; and as for Yumi.. well, read on!

A/N 2: Parts of this were written under the influence of either sleep deprivation or cold meds - sadly, it was long enough ago that I can't remember which - and that resulted in a minor Noodle Incident. Please read it, laugh, shake your head, and move on. It really doesn't bear thinking about.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Nine: Secrets and Truths

"Oi, Ayasegawa."

Large violet eyes blinked back at him, taking in the white haori, and a slow smile bloomed across the porcelain features.

"I see congratulations are in order, Hisagi-san."

"Thanks," he answered tersely, making the short leap from the top of the wall to the path beside the duo. "They just told me a few minutes ago."

"Well, I must say it's well deserved," Yumichika chirped. "I know you've been doing well by your division, and I'm glad they're finally recognizing that."

Shuuhei had to fight down a grin. Ever since they'd first fought during the Ryouka invasion and Yumichika had unleashed his true Shikai against him, the pair had shared a bizarre sort of half-friendship. It didn't go beyond the occasional night of drinks and a rare spar - both of them using their much-hated Shikai - and neither man would go quite so far as to say they were friends, but they were, perhaps, comrades.

Until a few minutes ago, he'd never imagined he'd share more with Yumichika than their mutual dislike of their Zanpakutou's releases. Despite Ayasegawa's beauty, he couldn't think of the man as anything more than a friend; his flamboyant, effeminate nature simply didn't appeal. Which was just as well, Shuuhei thought mildly, glancing sideways to where Ikkaku leaned against the wall, arms folded, regarding him with watchful eyes.

"Thank you, Ayasegawa-san. Actually, I was hoping to speak to you in relation to this," he added, gesturing vaguely at his haori.

"To your promotion? Whatever could someone like me have to do with that?"

Hisagi drew a deep breath, then sighed. This was going to be... very interesting. He'd never questioned, nor understood, the reasons Yumichika had for revealing the secret of his true shikai - something he'd later proven he would die to protect - to Shuuhei in their fight, so long ago.

However, Shuuhei had kept his word - the nature of Ayasegawa's Zanpakutou had remained between them, never mentioned outside of the half-dozen or so spars they'd shared over the years.

"When you fought me, during the Ryouka invasion, you proved that you're wasted as being a fifth seat. You handed me my ass, Ayasegawa, and you weren't even trying. Don't you ever get tired of having people look down on you?"

"They don't look down on me for very long," Yumi sniffed in response. "When they're on the ground, the only way they can look is up."

Well, that was certainly true, but... "That's not the point, Ayasegawa. Don't you want to be in a position where you can show your true strength?"

"I _knew_ it!"

The sudden exclamation made them both jump - Ikkaku was still leaning against the wall, but he was grinning like a madman now. Jabbing a finger towards Shuuhei, he said simply, "You've seen Yumi's real shikai."

"I... " Confused, Shuuhei paused. Ayasegawa had specifically asked - or rather, ordered with graphically detailed threats of torture - that Shuuhei not tell Ikkaku about Ruri'iro Kujaku's ability... so why did Ikkaku already know? Had Ayasegawa finally relented and told him?

A quick glance at the fifth-seat proved that was not at all the case; Yumichika had gone dead-white, a cold sweat beading his forehead and upper lip, violet eyes wide with an unmistakable emotion.

Fear.

Ayasegawa was afraid.

So afraid, in fact, that he looked heartbeats from passing out in a dead faint. Shuuhei took a step forward, trying to position himself to catch the smaller man if he fell, but Ikkaku's voice halted him in his tracks.

"Damn, I'm jealous. I'm his best friend, an' he's never shown me, but you've seen it?" A snort. "Lucky bastard. I've heard it's beautiful."

A heartbeat of dead silence went by. Then, all at once, the white face flushed red, and Yumichika went from on-the-verge-of-fainting terrified to on-the-verge-of-exploding furious.

"You knew? You _knew_?! You miserable, ugly cretin, you knew all along about my shikai and you let me go on thinking that you'd hate me if I ever let it slip -" Snarling, Yumi leapt after his friend, wielding his sheathed Zanpakutou in one hand, and proceeded to beat Ikkaku soundly around the head and shoulders with the scabbard. Ikkaku, meanwhile, just laughed hysterically, barely bothering to fend off the blows.

When one lucky strike finally split the skin of Ikkaku's forehead open, just above his right eyebrow, Shuuhei figured enough was probably enough, and hauled the still-furious Ayasegawa away by the back of his collar.

"I beg your pardon, Madarame-san," he began respectfully, carefully holding the squirming Yumi off the ground, far enough away to avoid being seriously kicked, "but when I fought Ayasegawa-san, he particularly requested that I not mention his true shikai to anyone, but specifically you and your captain. How did you find out about it?"

Ikkaku, already busy unscrewing the small pot of clotting ointment from his Zanpakutou's hilt, grunted.

"Hozukimaru told me," came his casual response, and Shuuhei dropped Yumi in surprise. Thankfully, he'd only had the other man a few inches off the ground, and Ayasegawa was quite nimble enough to get his feet under him, but it still earned Shuuhei a rather poisonous glare.

"Your _Zanpakutou_....?"

"Forgot, you don't talk to yours," Ikkaku muttered, dabbing the ointment on the seeping cut over his eye. "Some days, 'Zuki won't shut up. Told me about Kujaku's real ability a couple'a days after Yumi figured it out. So yeah, I've known all along. I figured that he'd tell me eventually," here he nodded towards Yumichika - "but he never did, not even after I told him about my Bankai."

The surprises just kept coming; he wouldn't have expected Ikkaku to so much as _breathe_ the word 'Bankai,' much less casually admit that he'd achieved it. When Shuuhei didn't react beyond a startled blink, Ikkaku leveled a glare at him. "You don't look surprised."

"I'm...surprised that you mentioned it, Madarame-san. But I've known about your Bankai for years now. The fact that you've achieved it is clear in your reiatsu."

That actually gave the older man a moment of pause. "...in my reiatsu?"

"Hai, Madarame-san."

There was a long, slow pause.

"Well, hell," he muttered. "If it's that obvious, how many people know?"

"I couldn't say," Shuuhei answered honestly. "If I had to guess, I'd say all of the captains and lieutenants, at the very least."

Ikkaku blanched, something that Yumichika seemed to find quite entertaining, and swore a few times under his breath. After a few moments, though, he shook his head slightly, realization dawning on his face. "They didn't ask to promote me, did they?"

"No. Abarai's been given command of Squad Five, and Kurosaki Ichigo is now captain of Squad Three."

It took about a minute and a half for Ikkaku to stop laughing over the fact that Ichigo was now a Captain, at which point he declared that Renji fully deserved to take command of the Fifth (whether that was supposed to be a compliment or not, Shuuhei wasn't certain), and clapped Hisagi on the shoulder with a chuckle.

"They're finally wisin' up, then."

"More like Kenpachi wouldn't _give_ you up," Yumichika sniffed. "Then he'd have no one to foist his work off on."

"Ah, shaddup, peacock. Hisagi, what'd you want with Featherface anyway?"

"Ahh..." Wonderful. Awkwardness reigned, again. "Ayasegawa-san, my promotion puts me in a very difficult spot. My Division is still reeling from the effects of the War; we're understaffed and overworked, and there is no one in the squad that I would trust to stand at my side as my Lieutenant."

Ikkaku started snickering again; evidently, he knew where Hisagi was going with this, even if Yumi hadn't quite picked up on it yet.

"I trust you, Ayasegawa. Obviously, you trust me as well, or you never would have revealed Ruri'iro Kujaku to me."

Ah, _now_ he got it. Yumichika was staring back at him with wide-eyed incredulity, mouth gaping, at a loss for words. With a mental wince and a prayer, Shuuhei drove the point home.

"I want you to come on as the Squad Nine Lieutenant."

"You... want.. what?" came the feeble gasp, before aplomb came back, swung round those graceful shoulders like a cloak. "You cannot be serious, Shuuhei. The attitudes of the Ninth and Eleventh aren't compatible at all."

Hisagi snorted. "I learned a while ago that having a lieutenant who blindly follows his captain's creed is nothing but an invitation to disaster. It's healthier for the squad and the officers if everyone is able to think for themselves."

The other two had the good grace to wince. Neither of them had personally witnessed Shuuhei slaying his former Captain on the battlefield, but most of the Seireitei has seen his breakdown, a few weeks after the war ended. He'd collected himself and gotten back to his duties within a few days, but not without some serious emotional scars.

"Hisagi, as flattered as I am," Yumichika began, uncharacteristically hesitant, "I don't have the qualifications -"

"Don't be ridiculous. Your strength is lieutenant-class, at _least_. I know you handle most of the administrative duties for the Eleventh, as well as the training for the incoming recruits. You're more qualified than your own vice-captain."

"Not that that's sayin' much," Ikkaku muttered, then looked up suspiciously, waiting for a small pink fury to descend on him and gnaw on his head. When none did, he glanced back at the others. "Kid's right, Yumi. You know that."

"But... but I'm _Eleventh_!" Yumichika moaned, dropping down to sit on the graveled path. Frustrated, he wound his fingers into his dark hair, not pulling, although he looked tempted. "I've always _been_ Eleventh!"

"Yer with the Eleventh 'cause of me, Yumi," Ikkaku said, his voice more gentle than Shuuhei would have expected possible. "I followed Zaraki, and you followed me, but you know it ain't right. Yer not some dirty, stupid ape swinging a sword around. Yer better than us - always have been."

"I am _not_ -"

"Shaddup and listen to me, Yumichika," Ikkaku snapped, and, much to Shuuhei's surprise, Ayasegawa did. "I know I'm hidin' my Bankai, so I'm not one to give this lecture, but at least I ain't lyin' to myself like you are. Like it or not, Kujaku's a kidou blade. That means you're a hell of a lot smarter than buffoons like us. It's time you started livin' up to yourself."

"I can't," came the thin, faint whisper. "I can't leave you and the Eleventh. It's all I've ever known."

"Who the hell said anything about leavin' me?!" Ikkaku demanded, waving his hands for emphasis. "Are ya blind, not seein' Iba come around every other day to fight with me? Renji sparring with us every week? Che, Yumi, you idiot. Even if ya do go, s'not like ya can't come back. I'll be here."

A long moment passed in silence. And then, finally, Yumichika stood.

* * *

"This is weird," Ichigo muttered softly. Renji, walking next to the Substitute-come-Captain, snorted in agreement.

"I'm not sure what's weirder - me bein' a Captain, or you being here by invitation."

"Shut up, would you? It's not like I asked for this!" Ichigo hissed back at him.

Renji opened his mouth to object, only to be interrupted by a very delicate 'ahem' from behind them.

"Beg your pardon, Unohana-taichou," he said automatically, snapping to attention and stepping aside, shoving Ichigo with him, to allow the senior Captain to precede them into the meeting hall.

"Thank you, Abarai-taichou," came the soft response as she breezed past. Isane Kotetsu, trailing behind her Captain, gave Renji and Ichigo a nervous nod as she scuttled in after her mentor.

Renji waited until they were out of hearing range to shake his head. "Abarai-taichou. That's gonna take some getting used to."

"Hey, at least you aren't starting from scratch. You were Abarai-fukutaichou for long enough to get used to a title; I've got it worse," Ichigo grumbled back.

That probably would have started another argument if the officers of the Second, Tenth, and Thirteenth hadn't arrived at that precise moment; Ichigo and Renji both caught sight of Rukia in the same instant, and their jaws simultaneously dropped.

It was quite satisfying, however, to see hers do the same when she caught sight of them.

"_Lieutenant_?!"

"_Captains_?!"

"_Idiots_," opined Hitsugaiya, and all three promptly snapped their mouths shut and filed in amongst the other officer's soft laughter.

Out of habit, Renji turned towards the left side of the long hallway, meaning to take his place behind Byakuya; a light punch on his shoulder, courtesy of the arriving Shuuhei, stopped him in his tracks. Blinking, a little sadly, he turned and strode to the opposite side of the hall, spinning to fall into formation between Ichigo and Komamura. The wolflike Captain nodded down to him, and Renji mustered a smile in return before turning to face ahead again.

Across the open expanse of floor, Byakuya glanced up, meeting his former subordinate's eyes. He held the deep-garnet gaze for one brief moment, then gave a small nod and a barely-visible smile before closing his eyes again, resuming his lightly meditative state.

Even that miniscule acknowledgement, however, was enough. Straightening his shoulders, Renji raised his chin slightly, fighting down the grin that wanted to spread across his face. Kira and Iba, each standing behind their respective Captains, stifled their own smiles at Renji's reaction. The space behind Renji was still empty, and would remain so; Hinamori, due to her fragile mental state, was excused from the meetings for an indeterminate amount of time.

The last of the arriving officers were trickling in; among them, as usual, was Kyouraku (being dragged along by his redoubtable lieutenant) and Zaraki.

Several eyebrows raised at their arrival of the latter. While he had Yachiru on his shoulder as per usual, he was also being trailed by a rather shellshocked-looking Yumichika.

The eyebrows rose a great deal farther when, at a terse nod from Zaraki, Yumichika gathered himself a bit, lifted his head and flounced across the room to take his place behind Hisagi. Zaraki trailed at a slower pace, his grin wide.

"Well, well. That's unexpected," Kyouraku drawled, tilting his hat back to stare at Yumichika, who raised his chin defiantly in response. Ukitake, standing at the end of Shuuhei's line, leaned back long enough to catch Yumi's eye with a friendly wink.

Ayasegawa returned the wink with palpable relief. Being asked to become a lieutenant was one thing. Being accepted as one was quite another.

"Where's Kurotsuchi?" Hitsugaiya wondered aloud, ignoring Ukitake and Yumichika to glance at the single empty space remaining in the Captain's rows.

"Hmm, come to think of it, I haven't seen him since Yama-jii asked him to stay after this morning's meeting," Kyouraku mumbled, glancing over Hitsugaiya at the gap.

At the head of the opposite row, Ichigo chewed his lip slightly and fought not to shuffle his feet; Kira, standing behind Ichigo's right shoulder, cast him a concerned look.

"Sir, is anything -?"

"Ah, sorry I'm late!!"

Every head swung in perfect unison to face the enormous double doors of the First Division's meeting hall - and the figure trotting through them.

Gone were the striped hat and the black haori, the rough green hakama and kosode replaced by a traditional shihakusho and a pristinely white Captain's haori. Benihime, no longer trapped in her disguise as a cane, rode proudly on the hip of her master. The only thing that remained unchanged were the unruly locks of sandy-blond hair and the irritatingly loud geta.

"Ki - _Kisuke_?!"

Ukitake's disbelieving gasp broke the stunned silence with the effectiveness of a gunshot. Almost instantly, most of the captains and half of the lieutenants were asking questions, demanding to know when he'd been reinstated, why he was dressed like that, what the hell he'd done with Freak-Face, until the bang of Ryuujin Jakka on the polished wood floor brought back the silence just as quickly as it had fled.

"Kisuke, resume your place," Yamamoto-soutaichou ordered, striding forward to take his seat and motioning sharply for the guards stationed at the doors to push them closed.

The room remained achingly silent as Urahara made his way calmly across the floor to stand beside Hitsugaiya, Kurotsuchi Nemu trailing silently in his wake. When he stepped into the position of the Captain of the Twelfth Division, though, the babble broke out again, and was not quelled until Yamamoto shouted for silence.

"Thank you," the old man growled with no little sarcasm when the room's occupants finally turned their attention to him. "Welcome, new and returning Captains, new Lieutenants. Because it is clear we cannot proceed until the matter is addressed, Kurotsuchi Mayuri is, effective this morning, stripped of all rank, power, and privileges pertaining to said rank and power. He will continue to work in the Research and Development Department only under intense supervision, being permitted no live experimental subjects, under pain of return to the Maggot's Nest.

"This has come about as a result of charges of countless war crimes, torture, and murder that have been leveled against him for his treatment of those he considered experimental subjects. I will _not_ be hearing questions on the matter. On to business!

"New Captains Kurosaki, Abarai, and Hisagi, welcome."

"Sir!" All three replied, in perfect unison. Briefly amused, Renji wondered if Kira had been drilling Ichigo in court protocol as well as kidou.

"Kurosaki and Abarai, you are to assess the states of your assigned Divisions and return a report to me within the week. Hisagi, I will expect a brief review from you as well."

"Yes, sir!"

"And now..." one dark eye slit open, peering steadily at the new Captain of the Ninth. "Your reasoning behind your selection of Lieutenant, Hisagi-taichou?"

Nothing like being put on the spot! "I selected Ayasegawa Yumichika for his strength," Hisagi began, thinking rapidly. It hadn't been a slow, reasoned decision process. Rather the contrary, it had been mostly gut instinct. "His tactical strength, his combat strength, and his strength of will. He is a clever and controlled fighter, a man of unwavering devotion and loyalty, and remarkable integrity."

"Ye-es, hiding one's true abilities for decades _is_ a remarkable display of integrity," Yamamoto answered dryly. Behind Shuuhei, Yumichika choked.

"Does _everybody_ know about that?" came the indignant half-wail. Ichigo looked bewildered, but he was one of few; Omaeda and Rukia were the only other ones who seemed confused. Zaraki and Yachiru, by contrast, burst out laughing.

"We would be rather poor captains if we couldn't determine our officer's strength, Ayasegawa-san," Ukitake pointed out, entirely too cheerfully, and Yumi dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

"I'm an idiot."

"The Eleventh as a whole seems to have a rather serious case of blockheadedness," temporized Kyouraku. "Ikkaku honestly thought nobody knew about his Bankai, either."

"The Eleventh _breeds_ blockheadedness," Byakuya muttered, just loud enough to be overheard. "Which seems to linger even after transferral."

Zaraki shouted, Iba swore, Renji threw his former captain the finger from behind his sleeve, and the meeting generally erupted into mass chaos, again. Snickering, Kyouraku withdrew a sake bottle from his sleeve and toasted the melee without his lieutenant noticing.

* * *

"Are the meetings always like that?" Ichigo asked, over an hour later. He was nursing a tension headache, a black eye, and a bruised toe from where someone had managed to step on his foot.

"Sadly," Hitsugaiya answered, still trying to pick the last of the noodles out of his hair, "that one went rather well."

* * *

"So, how are we doing this?" Yumichika asked, trotting down the path in the wake of Hisagi's long strides. They were heading back to the Ninth, for Hisagi to break the welcome news of his promotion, as well as the unexpected news of Yumichika's.

Apparently, when Ikkaku and Yumi had gone to their Captain to tell him about Hisagi's request, Zaraki had simply dragged a sheaf of papers out of his desk drawer, filled in the few remaining blank spaces, and signed them.

"Figured you'd wise up some day. You've always been too good for us," had been the gruff mutter. Little did Yumi know, but Zaraki had kept the transferral papers in his drawer for almost fifty years. He had known, even if Yumichika hadn't, that the fifth seat would leave eventually.

"Ah, just follow my lead," Hisagi answered quickly, and, to Yumichika's confusion, slipped off the Captain's haori he was wearing, roughly folding it and tucking it under one arm just as they reached the Division compound.

"Morning, Hisagi-san!" one of the gate guards hailed him cheerfully. If she was confused by Yumichika's presence, she had the good grace not to show it beyond a curious blink.

"Hoi, Terai! Ring the bell, would you? I need to address the Division."

"Right away, Hisagi-san!" She was gone in a flash of brown hair, leaving the remaining gate guard to look at them curiously.

"Good news, Hisagi-san?" the man inquired softly, charcoal-grey eyes shy behind wire-rimmed glasses. A short distance away, a huge brass bell tolled, once, twice, three times, and Shinigami immediately began appearing from the surrounding buildings, massing up in the packed-dirt courtyard, which must have doubled as a training ground.

"Good news, Rikodo," Shuuhei answered as he headed through the gates. Rikodo's manners weren't nearly as good as Terai's - he stared unabashedly at Yumichika's back as the man walked by.

It took a remarkably short time for entire squad to gather. Looking them over from the shadowed porch of the main offices, Yumichika quashed a grimace. Hisagi hadn't been kidding when he said they were understaffed and overworked. There should have been over two hundred Shinigami in the Division; at best guess, there were barely a hundred and thirty in the courtyard. Even accounting for those who might have been occupied with tasks too important to leave, they couldn't have been beyond three-quarters of their strength.

"Where is everyone? And don't tell me 'war casualties,' I know we didn't lose that many unseated officers," he hissed.

"_Morale_ casualties," came the low growl in response. "Lot of 'em transferred out, until we froze transfers. A few took retirement. A few..." trailing off, Hisagi shook his head slightly, and Yumichika winced.

"They took their own lives over that? What an ugly and shortsighted action."

"And what would you have done, if Zaraki had suddenly betrayed the Seireitei?" Hisagi snapped back, his voice a grating whisper.

Yumi considered that for a heartbeat, two. "I see," he said finally, keeping his voice low and letting some of the sympathy he felt color his tone. "I understand, and I apologize."

"Apology accepted," Shuuhei answered, just as quietly. "Thanks." Turning to face the assembled crowd, he held held a hand up for silence. In the immediate hush, he wordlessly took the Captain's haori from under his arm and shook it out, revealing the insignia on the back.

The cheers that erupted were deafening.

* * *

Once the cheering had died down and Hisagi had slipped the haori back over his shoulders where it belonged, he motioned for Yumi to step up beside him.

"For anyone who doesn't know, this is Ayasegawa Yumichika, former fifth seat of the Eleventh." He paused, allowing the expected wave of murmurs to rise and fall again, until the squad was gazing at him in expectant silence.

"As of this morning, he is your new Lieutenant."

It wasn't just murmurs this time; surprised gasps, a rising chatter, and even a few shouts from the unseated Shinigami at the back of the group.

One of the officers in the front row raised her hand as Hisagi gestured for silence, and he nodded to her. "Yes, Minori."

"Is the Eleventh trying to take over the Seireitei?" Minori, the sixth seat, inquired, not bothering to mask the cheeky grin stealing across her face. "Because, really, that's how many lieutenants they've placed now? Abarai in the Sixth, Tetsuzaemon in the Seventh, and now us?"

Hisagi gave a short, quiet bark of laughter at that. "Given that, as of this morning, Renji Abarai is now Captain of the Fifth -" he was cut off by whoops of triumph from the seventh and fifteenth seats, both of whom had been in Renji's Academy class - "I hardly think we have to worry about an Eleventh Division takeover. Ayasegawa?"

"I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about. The Eleventh wouldn't want you anyway," Yumichika grinned, winking at them to soften the joke.

"Their loss," Minori countered. "Welcome to the Ninth, Ayasegawa-fukutaichou."

* * *

Next week's chapter will actually be a full-length Interlude chapter, detailing what went on at the early-morning Captain's meeting, why Urahara is there, and why Mayuri isn't. Chapter Ten (in which Byakuya and Renji have a momentous moment) will be released in two weeks.

Reviews are love.


	10. Interlude: The Captain's Meeting

A/N: Although this was originally intended to be a short interlude, it got a little overzealous and wound up being a chapter. Sooo... I'm taking Kubo-sama's approach in sticking it in a random semi-appropriate place and calling it a half-chapter.

It's a rundown of the early-morning Captain's meeting in which votes are taken for Renji, Shuuhei, and Ichigo's captaincy. Also explains why Kurotsuchi was removed, why Urahara was reinstated, and other miscellaneous loose ends.

Normal flow of the story will resume next week with chapter ten, in which the new Captains address their squads and Byakuya and Renji have their meeting.

*Riko: Japanese woman's name meaning 'jasmine child.'

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 9.5: Interlude: The Captain's Meeting

* * *

"Kurosaki Ichigo!"

Being awakened by having your name yelled in your ear is not the best way to greet the morning.

It's far less pleasant when you have a raging hangover and have gotten about five hours of sleep, and less pleasant still when it's someone you don't know from Adam - or rather, Eve - doing the yelling.

All things considered, Ichigo's "Gaaah!" and immediate reaction of attempting to punch the yelling person in the face were quite understandable.

Attempting. Not succeeding, for two reasons. The first was that Ichigo, being hung over and sleep deprived, was not moving as fast as one would normally expect. The second, was that the yeller - in this case, a servant of the Kuchiki household, who was used to awakening Rukia in the mornings - was entirely accustomed to her charges lashing out with fists, feet, and other handy appendages in often-failed attempts to do her bodily harm.

She hadn't kept her job for over four centuries by being stupid, or slow.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," she repeated, as the bleary-eyed Substitute rolled over, rubbing the heel of his hand against one eye and trying to glare at her out of the other, "your presence is requested and required at a Captain's meeting on the First Division training grounds beginning in one half-hour. You are to arrive awake and presentable."

"Byakuya sent you, didn't he?" Ichigo growled after a long moment, dragging the sheets around him as he sat up.

"Kuchiki-sama did grant me the task of awakening you. He also requested I provide you with this," a small, narrow-necked glass bottle was placed on the nightstand, "and this," A fresh shihakusho landed neatly on the bed next to Ichigo's hip, "as well as offer you any services you may request or require, keeping in mind there is a half-hour time limit to all activities.

It took Ichigo's sleep-muddled mind a long moment to process that, but when he finally did, he turned a crimson that Renji's hair would have been jealous of.

Riko smiled to herself. It was simply too easy, with these young ones.

Face flaming, Ichigo pulled the sheets a little more tightly around his waist. "What's in the bottle?" he asked, hoping for a neutral topic.

"A hangover remedy from the Fourth Division. It is highly effective, but you are best advised to drink it quickly. And do not let it touch your tongue."

He'd already had the bottle halfway to his mouth by the time the last sentence escaped her; shooting her a wary look over the rim, he set the bottle to his lips and threw back the contents like an experienced drinker.

It didn't help; nothing could really prevent you from tasting the stuff, and it was just as nasty as it was effective. Ichigo gagged, coughed a few times, and finally wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, grimacing. "Did you say that came from the Fourth, or the Twelfth?"

"It is a potion purely of Unohana-taichou's devising , I assure you."

"That's a relief." Setting the bottle back down with a clunk, he gathered the clean shihakusho she'd brought him to his chest. "I'll go and wash now..."

Riko tilted her head to one side, waiting. Byakuya-sama had said this boy proved most entertaining when riled... "By all means, Kurosaki-san. Will you be requiring any assistance?"

"Gah! No, I won't need assistance! I'm perfectly capable of washing myself, thank you!"

"Then please, do not allow me to delay you."

Unconsciously, Ichigo bunched the sheets even closer around his waist. It was hardly his fault; he'd only brought a few pairs of boxers, which for some reason kept disappearing, and he could never get used to sleeping in yukata like most of the higher-bred Shinigami did....

Which was why he was currently turning fifty shades of embarrassed, wearing nothing but his bedsheets. Casting a last, desperate glance at his yukata - hanging oh-so-unhelpfully on a peg on the back of his door, behind the lady Byakuya had sent to torture him, Ichigo closed his eyes, counted to ten, and prayed for a nice, non-humiliating solution for this little conundrum.

"Look, lady -"

"Riko."

"What?"

"My name is Riko, Kurosaki-san."

"Great, Riko, that's wonderful, but I don't need any more help, so if you could... leave?"

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible, Kurosaki-san. Byakuya-sama has ordered me to remain with you and escort you to the Captain's meeting, which begins in twenty-six minutes."

Byakuya-sama was going to get Ichigo's foot up his ass for this if it was the last thing Ichigo did.

"In that case, could you hand me my yukata? And then... turn around while I put it on?"

"Of course, Kurosaki-san."

* * *

**Ten minutes later, after Ichigo's bathed**

"I must say, Kurosaki-san is marvelously well-developed for such a young man."

"..."

* * *

"I am going to kill you," Ichigo hissed at Byakuya, as the pair descended the rough-hewn wooden steps to the wide, packed-dirt field that served as the First Division's secondary training ground.

"Was Riko-san not to your satisfaction?" Byakuya inquired, eyes focused straight ahead and face carefully blank.

"She _followed_ me into the _bath_!! On _your_ orders, you pervert!"

"I most certainly did not order her to follow you into the bath. You must be mistaken."

"I am _not_ mistaken! Every time I asked her to leave, she would just tell me, 'Byakuya-sama has ordered me to remain with you'! So yes, you did!"

"I did not give her express orders to follow you throughout your entire morning routine, only to ensure that you were ready within the alloted half-hour frame."

"Bullshit."

"Riko-san has always possessed a will of her own," Byakuya offered, with a gesture that might have been a shrug in a man of lesser breeding.

"A servant with a will of their own? I didn't think that was allowed," Ichigo gritted back.

"Riko-san has served the Kuchiki house since before my birth; certain irregularities are permitted."

* * *

"Oi, Yama-jii," Kyouraku called lazily, a few minutes later. "Now that we're all here, would you care to tell us why Ichigo's along for the ride?"

Standing in front of his Captains - they were forming a single line, now, along the rough rock wall that delineated the edge of the practice grounds - Yamamoto Genryuusei glared at his former student through one slitted eye.

"We are here," the Head-Captain announced in booming tones, "to cast judgement on the worthiness of the individuals suggested to you for promotion to Captain three days prior. Of the three candidates suggested, both Abarai Renji and Hisagi Shuuhei have proven themselves sufficiently skilled in all areas of Shinigami study to warrant promotion." The murmurs broke out immediately, as he had expected they would. "Late last night, I received testimony. Hisagi Shuuhei has - "

A sharp whistle cut off Yamamoto in mid-sentence. Amidst a resurgence of startled whispers, all attendees spun to face the staircase and the two figures descending it.

Unapologetically clad in his green shopkeeper's wear and black haori, complete with irritating hat, Urahara Kisuke cheerfully waved his fan at the assembled captains. "Good morning, everyone! Am I late?"

"About a century too late, you worthless piece of - ow! Watch where you're sticking that sword of yours, you gibbering ape!"

Zaraki merely snorted in disgust and ignored Kurotsuchi as thoroughly as humanly possible.

"You are late, Kisuke, as usual. You have testimony to present?"

"I do indeed~!" the former Captain sang back, all but bounding his way down the last few steps and crossing the packed dirt to stand beside Yamamoto. Yoroichi, trailing languidly behind him in her human form, strolled down to the line of Captains and casually fell in line to Soifon's left, leaving the diminutive Black Ops commander blushing crimson.

"I am very pleased to announce," Urahara began, his voice ringing with old echos of authority and power, "that Hisagi Shuuhei has indeed achieved Bankai. I can present to you video proof," he added, producing a disk from somewhere on his person, "to this effect, as well as offer testimony from myself and Yoroichi, as well as the other residents of the Shoten.

"You will be pleased to know that Hisagi-san achieved his Bankai, in the end, using a three-day process which I myself developed, and which, to date, only two other people have been able to use successfully. He achieved Bankai in this manner within fifty-one hours, faster than even Kurosaki-kun," he added, nodding towards the young man.

That raised several eyebrows, including Ichigo's own, and earned a few nods along the line.

"Accepting that Hisagi Shuuhei has achieved Bankai, we will proceed with voting. For Abarai Renji, current Vice-Captain of Squad Six, to be promoted to Captain of Squad Five?"

With wartime rules still in effect, the promotion of a new Captain required proof of ability - a nonissue in Renji's case, given that half of the Seireitei had personally witnessed his Bankai at one point or another - as well as a majority vote of Captains in support of the promotion. Six voices to speak for Renji would give him command of the Fifth.

Byakuya took one step forward, out of the line of Captains. "As he who submitted this officer for consideration, I support his promotion."

"I support," said Ukitake and Kyouraku in unison, stepping forward. Laughing, the pair exchanged sheepish grins.

"I support," Zaraki boomed, stepping forward to join them.

"I support," Unohana said softly, joining the other four.

There was barely a half-second before both Hitsugaya and Komamura stepped forward, joining five other captains of the Seireitei in support of a single Rukongai street rat.

"I support him too!" Urahara chirped, fluttering his fan at the forward line and cheerfully ignoring Byakuya and Hitsugaya's glares.

"Hell, yes!" Yoroichi shouted from the far end of the line. She might have said more, but was silenced by the muffled thud of Ryuujin Jakka's tip striking dirt.

"Seven votes in favor. Majority rules," barked Yamamoto, as those in favor stepped back into the original line. "Abarai Renji is now Captain of Squad Five. For Hisagi Shuuhei to be promoted to Captain of Squad Nine?"

Komamura Sajin stepped forward. "As he who submitted this officer for consideration, I support his promotion."

Once again in unison, Ukitake and Kyouraku stepped forward. "We support."

Unohana and Hitsugaya somehow wound up coming forward in the same moment, and Zaraki joined them only a beat later. When several of the Captains in the forward line glanced at him in confusion, Zaraki gave a vague shrug in response.

"Yumichika said fightin' him was the most fun he'd had in years. Not gonna argue."

"Again, seven votes in favor. Majority rules. Hisagi Shuuhei is now Captain of Squad Nine."

"About time!" added Urahara, earning himself an annoyed glance from Yamamoto.

"And now," Yamamoto began, turning cynical eyes on the youngest member of the assembled group, "we must administer a proficiency test to one Kurosaki Ichigo."

Pinned in place by that dark gaze, Ichigo gaped at him for a moment, wide-eyed, before recovering his wits enough to speak. "Proficiency - what? Nobody said anything about a test!"

"You were informed, were you not, that you were being considered for the rank of Captain within the Gotei squads?" barked Yamamoto.

"I was, but -"

"And it did not occur to you at any point that you would be tried for competence before being granted this most sacred of positions?"

"Ah -"

"This is why we have been subjecting Lieutenant Kira to your pitiful lack of expertise in the Shinigami arts for the past month, Kurosaki Ichigo! It is to make you worthy of holding the position of Captain!"

"I understand."

"What was that?"

"I said, I understand, Head-Captain Yamamoto, sir!"

Several of the older Captains stifled grins at this; Yamamoto himself opened both eyes to their fullest to stare at the young Substitute in something very like disbelief.

"Apparently, Lieutenant Kira has been drilling you in more than just kidou," the old man muttered finally, then; "Kurosaki Ichigo, to demonstrate your proficiency in kidou, you will meet in single combat one Captain from our ranks and battle them stalemate or defeat using only kidou. Your Zanpakutou will be removed from you during the course of this battle."

Ichigo's alarm reflected only too clearly on his face at the last statement.

"Is that a problem, Kurosaki Ichigo?" growled Yamamoto.

"Aah..." Grimacing, Ichigo rubbed the back of his head as he struggled with the wording of his explanation. "Sir, my Zanpakutou is how I limit the strength of my kidou. Without him being immediately present, I am afraid of injuring whichever Captain I am pitted against."

"You, injure _us_? That's rather a arrogant assumption, don't you think?" Hitsugaya snorted.

"If that is your belief, Captain Hitsugaya, then you may have the pleasure of being his opponent."

Not - quite - smirking, the diminutive Captain carefully slipped Hyorinmaru's sheath from his back, wrapping the sea-green silk sash around the scabbard before stepping out of line to hand the long blade to Ukitake with a brief bow. "It would be my honor if you would keep him for me."

"It would be my honor to do so," Ukitake smiled, carefully taking the Zanpakutou in his hands.

"Someone's jealous~...." came a sing-songed stage whisper from the other end of the line. Yoroichi was leaning forward, peering down the row of Captains at her childhood friend. Huffing with disdain, Byakuya raised his chin another fraction of an inch and did his best to ignore her.

"Kuchiki Byakuya," boomed Yamamoto, fixing his gaze on the Kuchiki scion, "you disagree with the opponents for this match?"

"It is not my place to -"

"I'll take them both."

Every person in the line, Byakuya included, turned a disbelieving stare towards Ichigo. The young Substitute, having already handed Zangetsu off to Urahara, raised his head in unmistakable challenge towards the noble.

"I owe you for this morning, Byakuya. So come on. I'll take you and Toushirou both."

"That's _Captain Hitsugaya_!"

Byakuya permitted himself no more than a single raised eyebrow, but very calmly unwound the windflower silk scarf from around his neck, folding the lengthy fabric with practiced ease before unfastening Senbonzakura's sheath from his sash, and finally presenting both to Unohana with a short bow.

She mirrored his bow in accepting them, then quietly stepped back against the rough wall of earth, joining the other Captains in waiting for the battle to begin.

* * *

"All right," Ichigo said softly, staring across the hard-packed ground at the two young Captains. "Who moves first?"

"As challenger, that is your privilege," Hitsugaya responded calmly, shifting his weight.

"Ah," Ichigo murmured. "Good."

And that was the only warning they had before he lashed out with a simple Hadou one, _Shou_ -Thrust. It was the most basic of techniques, but both Captains leapt to dodge it.

The trailing edge of the kidou - no more than a fraction of it's power - clipped Hitsugaya on the shoulder and sent him spinning, thirty feet away into the dirt. Byakuya's attention, torn for a split-second as he realized once again just _how strong_ Ichigo was, nearly proved to be his undoing when a Hadou four, _Byakurai_, lanced over his shoulder. He ducked it with a Flashstep, but when the blue-white lighting had faded, there was a singed mark on his haori and a few black hairs fluttering to the ground.

"So it begins." Raising his hands, Byakuya threw a simple binding kidou, _Hainawa_, in Ichigo's direction. Much to his surprise, the boy didn't manage to dodge it completely; the crawling rope snaked around his wrist to entangle his left hand. Clenching the other end of the glowing kidou-cord in his own left hand, Byakuya raised his right, fully intending to pay Ichigo back for the _Byakurai_ of a moment before.

Shaking his head, Ichigo leapt forward, his Shunpo blurring him even in Byakuya's vision, although it did nothing to shake off the restraint around his wrist.

It wasn't until Byakuya saw Ichigo's lips moving that he realized he'd been had.

Th_e_ _Tsuzuri Raiden _spell - Bound Lightening - jolted through his body full-force, conducted by the _Hainawa_ he himself had put on Ichigo. The binding spell disintegrated into nothingness in the wake of the electrical charge, but Byakuya staggered, panting, and dropped to one knee as Ichigo whirled away, just in time to deflect a _Soukatsui_ blast from a very irritated Hitsugaya.

He deflected it, not with a shield spell, but with an identical _Soukatsui_ - the resulting backlash from the exploding spells knocked everyone in the vicinity backwards. Byakuya shielded his face with his sleeve until the grit-laden wind subsided; when he lowered his arm, he was only mildly surprised to see Ichigo standing a few feet in front of him, blocking the worst of the effects.

What greatly surprised him was the yellow glow of the _Enkosen_ shield that Ichigo was casting, protecting them both from the blue-white blasts of Hitsugaya's second attack.

Still flawlessly maintaining his shield, Ichigo half-turned to glance over his shoulder at the noble. "You all right?"

Byakuya blinked at him, remembering the first time he'd really, truly seen this infuriating Ryouka boy; holding back the phoenix-form of the Soukyouku with no visible effort in order to save one single, worthless girl.

His strength had been terrifying then, and he'd only grown more powerful since, through wars and anguish that he never should have been involved in. How much pain and suffering they had all endured, and yet this one foolish boy never lost his hope, or his will to fight...

"Byakuya! Are you all right?!"

The worry in the boy's voice snapped him back to awareness. "Fine," he answered tersely. "Just... shocked."

Ichigo stared at him for the space of a heartbeat, eyes wide with disbelief.

Byakuya's lip quirked, just a little.

Ichigo burst into laughter, dispersed the shield he'd been maintaining, and threw two spells, one after the other, into Hitsugaya's oncoming attack. The _Shakkahou_ shattered the blue-white lightning orbs, leaving the path clear for his second spell. The paralyzing _Geki_ spell burst through the smoke of the two previous spells, striking Hitsugaya head-on.

"Hitsugaya has been neutralized. Kuchiki!"

"I am unable to continue," Byakuya called back, hesitating only a moment before he accepted the hand Ichigo extended to him. "Kurosaki is the victor."

* * *

Voting for Ichigo's Captaincy was postponed for a few minutes while Unohana came forward to treat Byakuya's burned hand and Hitsugaya's left shoulder, which had been dislocated in Ichigo's initial attack.

There was no longer a question of his competence; even though they'd both grossly underestimated him, he'd taken out two Captains with only a handful of moves. Should they ever fight again, the battle would be longer and more challenging, on both sides. But for now, it was enough.

* * *

"Yamamoto-Soutaichou, I want to speak to you."

Dark eyes opened to narrow slits, boring into the young upstart who dared make demands of the most powerful man in the Soul Society. "Don't let your victory make you overconfident, little boy."

Ichigo scowled in response, leveling a glare at the ancient man. "In private."

One heavy eyebrow lifted.

Ichigo glared on, unafraid and unwilling to be deterred.

"Very well," sighed Yamamoto. "I will indulge you, child. Do not presume that you have any rights because of it."

A fast Flashstep took them out of the hearing range of the other captains, and Ichigo got right to the point.

"I'll become Captain on one condition."

Yamamoto nearly choked. "Condition?! It is not for you to set conditions, boy! You are here because of invitation, not privilege!"

"Yeah, right," Ichigo snorted. "I may be young, but I'm not stupid. You don't want me here, I know that. I'm a human, and a Visored, and I'm not 'one of you.' If you had any other alternatives, you'd have found them already. You're desperate. You _need_ my help."

As much as Yamamoto might have like to object to that, it was impossible. The Seireitei _was_ desperate, and Ichigo was a shining star, a hero of the War. The fact that he was, at best, a hybrid - though a hybrid of _what_ was still in question - was ignored in the face of his popularity and appeal. The recovery would go much quicker with him in their ranks; the unseated and low-ranked officers flocked to him out of admiration, while the more seasoned Shinigami simply tendered him well-deserved respect.

It was easier, sometimes, to bow to the will of the masses. "What is your demand, child?"

"I want Kurotsuchi Mayuri removed from his office."

It was hardly what Yamamoto had been expecting; then again, it had been crass of him to expect that the boy would demand any of the usual favors. He had all the power he would ever need, women would flock to him, and if he did not have money and luxuries, they would come to him easily enough.

"Explain."

"Kurotsuchi's a monster. You know that; that's why he was imprisoned in the first place. What I don't understand is why he was ever allowed to take Captain's rank, let alone hold it. The man has no soul, he's a sociopath! I know how he treats his own men, what he does to his own daughter. Uryuu told me what he did to the rest of the Quincy, and yet you just let him keep experimenting! I won't stand for it," the boy added, his voice dropping to a growl. "You may be able to turn a blind eye to what he does, but I've _been_ in his laboratory. I _saw_ what he did to -"

"Enough!" The word was a near-shout, ringing in the air between them. Ichigo fell silent, but his anger and reiatsu pulsed around them in an oppressive haze.

Biting down a heavy sigh, Yamamoto gave the only response he could. "Your argument is well-founded. What do you suggest?"

That clearly took the boy aback; he'd obviously been expecting an argument. After a moment to marshall his thoughts, however, he plunged right back in.

"If there is a way to strip him of his powers, do it. And as much as I wish you could throw him back down whatever rat-hole he crawled out of, I know he's too valuable a scientist. But he loses his rank, all his privileges. He's not allowed any experiments with live subjects, and all of his work needs to be monitored, closely."

"And who do you suggest replace him as Captain of the Twelfth?"

"Reinstate Urahara," came the immediate reply. "He was the Captain before Kurotsuchi - he only lost his rank because of Aizen. You've already granted him a full pardon and return citizenship like everyone else. There's no reason why he shouldn't be reinstated to his old rank as well."

"I will think on this," Yamamoto acknowledged, after a few torturous moments of silence. "For now, we return to the other Captains. They will be ready to vote on your position."

* * *

"And who among you supports this boy, Kurosaki Ichigo, to become Captain of Squad Three?"

Hitsugaya and Byakuya had come forward before the last words had fallen from Yamamoto's lips. "I support," they chorused, voices resolute.

Kyouraku and Ukitake were less than half a step behind, with Unohana and Komamura directly on their heels. "We support."

"I support."

"I support."

"Hell, yes," laughed Zaraki. "Be good to get someone as tough as me in the ranks."

"For what it's worth," drawled Urahara, bowing slightly as he presented Ichigo back his Zanpakutou, "I support."

"And me," sang Yoroichi, stepping to the side of the line of Captains. Lingering near the bank, Soifon hesitated for a moment, before dropping her head and stepping forward. "Where Yoroichi-sama's vote goes, so does my own."

Left alone at the cliff, Kurotsuchi gave a whine of dismay. "But I wanted to dissect him!" When the only response he received was appalled glares, he shook his head in disgust. "Oh, fine. Make him a Captain, I'll just dissect him later."

"Majority rules. Congratulations, Kurosaki Ichigo. You are now Captain of Squad Three."

"Thank you," Ichigo replied with a short bow. "It will be my honor and duty to serve the Soul Society and Seireitei to the best of my abilities."

"Be sure that you do. Kurotsuchi, Urahara, a word. The rest of you, we will reconvene in two hours in the main meeting hall. Dismissed!"

* * *

"Kurosaki."

"Hm?" Halfway up the rough stairs, Ichigo paused and glanced back. Byakuya and Hitsugaya were only a few steps behind him.

"Come with us," Hitsugaya ordered brusquely, stepping past Ichigo and continuing upward.

"Come with you.... where?"

"To the Tenth Division." Somehow, without changing one iota of his facial expression or breaking the monotone of his voice, Kuchiki Byakuya managed to begin radiating... _deviousness_. "You're going to help us break the news to Renji and Hisagi."

* * *

A/N: "You've already granted him a full pardon and return citizenship like everyone else." - yes, the Visoreds were pardoned and offered their places back after the War. As Kensei stated in Ch. 5, most of them refused.

All of the Kidou used here were cross-checked on Bleach Wikia for accuracy. If any errors remain, it's their fault and not mine, XD.

And that explains that. Any questions not answered here (and not pertaining to major upcoming plot points), please, feel free to PM or email me, I'm always happy to talk about my stories.


	11. Surpassing Strength

**A/N**: Does puzzling out Kubo-sensei's timeline give anyone else a headache? I've been trying to work a few things out with regards to continuity... mostly, all it's allowed me to determine is the need for a dose of Tylenol.

****(Please note this involves a **_**lot**_** of assumptions on my part, but it is actually pertinent at the end of the chapter.)** ** From what I can determine, Byakuya became a Gotei Captain somewhere around forty-three years before the start of Bleach. It's stated in the series that he was promoted 'shortly before' Rukia joined the Gotei, and assuming she spent the average six years at the Academy, that could put his promotion a few months before her commission. In the 'Turn Back the Pendulum' episodes/chapters, set 110 years before the series, he does not yet appear to be a Shinigami, although he is training in swordsmanship and already a master of Shunpo at the time.

Also, note to Momo fans: please bear with me on this, you'll see why I take the tack I do later on in the story. Thank you!

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Ten: Surpassing Strength

Striding through the wide gates of the Fifth Division brought back an uneasy rush of memories; stumbling through these selfsame gates with Momo and Kira, the day after their graduation, and then exiting through them alone, months later, on his way to the Eleventh. He'd been shocked when Aizen had called him to his office, brown eyes kind behind his glasses, and informed Renji in his gentlest voice that he didn't believe Renji was suited to continuing in the Fifth Division.

'_Not suited, my ass_,' Renji thought sourly, jerking once again on his heavy haori. He understood, after the defection, that Aizen couldn't have risked having a temperamental, insubordinate underling like him, but it had hurt at the time and the memory of it still gnawed at him.

He found the main office easily enough; it was hardly the first time he'd been there, after all. He and Momo had maintained a vague friendship throughout his tenure in the Eleventh, although it had suffered after Renji's promotion to the Sixth devoured his time. It was easy to wonder, now, whether Momo would have come through the defection better if she'd had stronger friendships and more support. Would more faith in her friends have made her less reliant on Aizen? More willing to see the truth of the viper behind that innocent mask?

Not that it mattered now, Renji reminded himself. What was done was done, and there was nothing that could be done about it. Scowling, he shook his head to dismiss the mental stream of what-ifs, and pushed the door open without declaring himself.

Hinamori, seated at her desk and working mechanically through the piles of paperwork before him, glanced up as he entered and went white at the expression on his face.

Mentally grimacing, Renji forced the scowl away from his face and replaced it with a careful smile. "Hey, Momo. How're things going?"

Dark, doe-like eyes blinked back at him, and Renji felt sick at the blankness behind them. Momo had always been timid, but before the betrayal, before the War, she had been nothing short of brilliant; a master strategist and tactician, not to mention one of the best kidou practitioners he'd ever met. Now... gods, Nemu had more spirit than her now.

Those huge eyes blinked, and quite suddenly a bit of the Momo he remembered was staring at him, a genuine smile blossoming over her pale mouth. "Renji! They did promote you, I'm so glad!"

That took him back for a moment. "You knew the Captains were planning to promote me?"

"Of course," came the surprisingly pragmatic response. "Shiro-kun talked to me about it, and I agreed that you would make a good Captain for us. He wanted to make sure I wouldn't be upset about someone else taking Aizen-taichou's place."

_Taking_ _Aizen-taichou's place_. The man had been dead for months, had tried to engineer Momo's death more times than Renji cared to count, and still she considered him her Captain.

It was moments like this that Renji desperately wished Aizen were still alive, so that he could be killed all over again.

"Well, I hope we can work together," he offered, wishing his voice didn't sound so flat as he spoke. "We've got a lot to do, but this Division is gonna shine again, Momo."

She smiled at him then, and it was enough like her old smile that he could almost ignore the dark circles under her eyes, the hollows under her cheekbones. It was almost enough for him to imagine that she was his same old friend again.

Almost.

"Can you gather the Squad for me, Momo?" he asked, trying not to feel nauseated at this broken parody of the girl he'd once known. "I need to address them."

"Of course, Abarai-taichou," she answered, sounding cheerful, and slipped out the door to follow his orders. Feeling sick, Renji stood back and watched her go.

* * *

Standing up on the broad porch, he gazed out at the assembled crowd of Shinigami before him. Most were staring at him, their expressions ranging from mildly curious to politely bored. None of them looked surprised, or confused, which meant...

"Momo," he murmured, voice pitched low, "who told them I'd been nominated to become their Captain?"

"Um, Kuchiki-taichou came by a few days ago, when Shiro-kun came to talk to me. He told them after I gave my assent."

Renji stared at her for a long moment before turning away with a disbelieving shake of his head. Drawing a deep breath, he tugged his haori straight once again and addressed his Squad.

"Good morning. In case anyone doesn't know, my name is Abarai Renji, former Lieutenant of the Sixth Division. This morning, I was promoted to the position of Captain of Squad Five." Pausing, he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly before continuing. "I know you were informed of my nomination, but truth be told, Kuchiki-taichou didn't mention to me that he was putting me up for a Captain's position, so I wasn't exactly prepared for this."

A few startled murmurs and sarcastic looks answered that statement, which Renji calmly ignored. He didn't intend to start off by lying to his Division; none of Squads would have deserved that, but this one needed it the least.

"Sir, why didn't Kuchiki inform you of your nomination beforehand?" one of the seated officers asked quietly, raising his hand as he did so.

" 's his idea of a joke," Renji answered with a shrug.

"Kuchiki? Joke?" one of the lower seats muttered incredulously.

"Believe it or not, he does have a sense of humor," Renji said wryly. "Although I seem to be his favorite target, so I'm pretty sure none of you have to worry. Now, if anyone has any questions or needs to talk to me, feel free to stop by my office at any point, I'll be in and out until I get organized. If I'm out, it'll probably be at the Sixth Division barracks. I'll be meeting up with everyone here over the next few days in order to get a better feel for the Division, so don't worry if I call you in. Any questions?"

Nobody answered, so Renji slapped a hand down on the railing of the porch. "All right then, third through tenth seats, please report to my office in an hour for interviews. Dismissed!"

* * *

As the softly muttering crowd of Fifth squad members dispersed, Renji turned with a weary sigh. "Well, that went better than I expected."

"You did quite well, Abarai-taichou..."

"Jeez, Momo, don't call me that. We've been friends for too long."

"S-sorry, Renji-taichou!"

Caught between amusement and annoyance, Renji glanced down at her, not slowing his long strides as he moved back towards his office. _His_ office. Gods. This was gonna take getting used to.

"Momo, you can just call me Renji. We've friends; that's not going to disappear just because I've been assigned to lead your Division. You've been a good Lieutenant for them, and I don't want that to change. We're gonna have to work together to bring the Fifth back to what it used to be, a'right?"

"All right," came the timid reply, and Renji stifled a sigh. He knew perfectly well that if there was another capable officer readily available, Hinamori wouldn't still be where she was. In truth, the girl still should have been hospitalized, but Unohana had suggested - firmly - that keeping Hinamori busy would be more beneficial than allowing her to sit in the Fourth, staring at walls all day.

So, Momo had been sent back to her damaged Division, to manage it as best she could. She'd kept up with the Fifth's paperwork, declining assistance from the First Division, but it had fallen on the lower seats to keep the members of the Division training and moving forward.

They'd suffered as a result. Most of the Fifth was disheartened and depressed, only going through the motions of practice. As a result, only a few members of the squad had managed to improve themselves, and the improvements were minimal. Most had managed to at least maintain their strength, but a few had backslid.

Flopping down at the plain, utilitarian desk - all of Aizen's belongings had been thoroughly searched through and later destroyed, then replaced with cheap, quickly-found pieces - Renji eyed the stack of personnel files on the blotter and sighed. Dragging the first one towards him, he flipped it open and got to work.

* * *

"You should all know me by now, but for anyone that doesn't, my name is Kurosaki Ichigo. I was the Substitute Shinigami in the Living World up until a few weeks ago, when Yamamoto asked me to come here. I've been assigned to take over as your Captain for the next few months or so."

A wave of startled murmurs kicked up, many of the assembled crowd exchanging wary glances. It was an unseated officer in the back of the group that finally shouted out, "And at the end of the few months, then what? Are you just going to walk out on us, too?"

"Aida, that's no way to address -" Kira broke off abruptly as Ichigo raised a hand in front of him.

"It's all right, Kira," he said softly, and cautiously set one hand on Kira's shoulder. Blue eyes regarded him warily for a long moment before Kira slowly took a step backwards and nodded for Ichigo to continue.

"Aida, was it?" Ichigo asked, turning back to face the assembled group. When the brown-haired man nodded in response, Ichigo cast a crooked half-smile in his direction. "That's a very valid question, Aida, and no, I'm not going to walk out on you. Yamamoto asked me to serve as interim Captain for the Third Division until Kira feels he's ready to take on full responsibility of the rank."

If Ichigo's previous announcement had set off chatter, this one sparked a minor storm of gasps and mutters.

"I want you all to know that I have no intention of taking this Division away from Kira; he's worked too long and too hard for that, and you're his people, not mine. However, I'm going to ask you to cooperate with me for the next few months so that we can make the greatest progress. Kira and I will both be working right alongside you to improve ourselves and this Squad.

"I know you've been mistreated, and I'm sorry. I can't promise I'll be an easy leader for you; I'm going to push you like you haven't been pushed in years. But I'll do my best to be fair, and I promise I'll listen if you come to me with a reasonable complaint. If you have any questions for me, I'll be in the offices for the next few hours. If you don't want to ask me directly, ask Kira; if he can't answer the question, he can pass it on. That's all."

* * *

Night had long since fallen by the time Renji tapped lightly on the edge of the doorjamb leading to the familiar office. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Renji. Come in."

Same old Byakuya, Renji thought with a resigned chuckle, slipping through the half-open door. His former Captain was behind his desk, as ever, his attention on a sheaf of papers he was filling out. He didn't glance up as Renji entered, just motioned briefly with his free hand for Renji to take a seat.

Ignoring the two uncomfortable wooden 'visitor's chairs,' Renji elected to sit on the edge of his old desk, shuffling through the few bits of paperwork remaining on it. Someone else had clearly been taking care of his papers; otherwise, the stack of unfinished work would have been taller than Hitsugaya.

Sighing faintly, he poked the lopsided little clay cup he used to hold his ink brushes (he'd made it himself, as a child in Rukongai), shifted the etched copper inkwell (a birthday gift from Kuchiki-taichou), and rifled through his pens. One of them - a ridiculous Chappy-headed one that Rukia had given him - was missing, again. It vanished about once a week, usually turning up on his chair the next morning. He'd often wondered if it was Kuchiki-taichou, playing more jokes on him.

He heard a rustle of papers and looked back towards said Captain, in time to see the man sign and stamp the document he'd been working on and set it aside. Folding his hands on the desk, Byakuya fixed Renji with his steel-blue gaze and asked simply "How was your first day?"

"Rough," Renji answered honestly. "The furniture in my office is crap."

When Byakuya didn't react beyond a scornful twist of his mouth, Renji rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Joking, sir. Seriously, though, the Fifth's in bad shape. Hinamori's been a friend of mine ever since the Academy, and now she won't even look me in the eye. The ninth seat broke down in tears during our interview, and the third seat told me flat-out that they were as useful now as, and I quote, 'a buncha marionettes with our strings cut.' They've just... lost themselves," he sighed, slumping forward and dropping his head, hands falling limply against his knees. "And I dunno how to get 'em back."

"I would not have suggested you for the position if I did not feel you were capable, Renji," came the firm response, and Renji lifted his head enough to blink at Byakuya, his eyes tired.

"You are an inspiration, Renji. You always have been."

A compliment?! '_An inspiration_'? Renji nearly fell off the desk. "You... I... wha??" he managed, staring slack-jawed at the other man. "Who are you and what have you done with Kuchiki-taichou?" Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he growled, "You're not one of Kurotsuchi's clones, are you?"

"Do not be absurd, Renji. Kurotsuchi would not stand a chance against me."

True enough, Renji had to admit, although it didn't explain what potentially universe-destroying force had driven Byakuya to offer _compliments_ to his former Lieutenant. Before he could compose the question in his mind to a point that it didn't sound either insulting or stupid, however, Byakuya started speaking again.

"You are willing to give your own life for your beliefs, your friendships. You always see the odds, and yet no matter how insurmountable they seem, you defy them. It was why I gave you this," Byakuya said softly, tugging at the windflower-silk scarf around his neck.

Renji blushed, just a little, at the reminder. He could remember coming back to consciousness, feeling the soft silk of the scarf bound tight around his ribcage. Although Unohana had done a great deal to repair his injuries from Byakuya's Bankai, Hanatarou had used the precious heirloom to bandage the remaining wounds.

Days later, when they were together in the infirmary of the Squad Four barracks, Byakuya would tell him that he'd gifted Renji the scarf as a mark of respect, for the progress the younger man had made and his bravery in the battle. Renji had said nothing about it until some time later, when both of them were cleared to return to work.

* * *

"_This is yours, Taichou." _

_This simple act, those four words, took perhaps more courage than facing down Byakuya's Bankai had. Forcing his hands not to tremble, Renji bowed his head as he laid the carefully folded silk down on his Captain's desk, not daring to meet the man's eyes._

_There was a long silence, and Renji could feel the weight of his Captain's gaze on him. "It was meant as a gift, Renji," came the cool voice, after what felt like an eternity. _

"_I know that, sir, and thank you, but I can't accept it. Not yet. I don't deserve it; not until I can stand beside you as an equal."_

_When Byakuya didn't answer for several long moments, Renji dared to raise his eyes enough to peek at his Captain's expression. One slender eyebrow was raised, and the spark in those lavender-grey eyes spoke of something like... amusement??_

"_And you suggest that when you may stand beside me, I should return it to you?"_

"_Aahhh..." Vaguely frantic, Renji wondered just how he was supposed to respond to that. He couldn't be certain that Kuchiki-taichou was joking, and he didn't dare agree if the man wasn't. _

"_That's entirely up to you, sir!" he managed to stammer out, and fled back to his desk. It was hardly a safe haven - they were sharing the secondary office again, and it wasn't that big - but it felt safer than standing in the empty space in front of his Captain's desk._

_More-or-less safely ensconced in his chair, he was able to watch from under his eyelashes as Byakuya silently unfolded the scarf, running gaze and hands across the delicate fabric. Those perfect eyebrows traveled higher and higher on his forehead with every inch of the scarf he examined, until they seemed in danger of vanishing into his hairline. Renji could understand his surprise; it made it well worth the torturous days he'd spent, fighting to get the precious fabric clean again. _

_It was still stained - no force in the world could completely remove the marks of blood from the impossibly fine silk - but the stains were faint enough that only he and Byakuya would be able to find them. _

_When he'd examined every inch of the scarf, Byakuya sat for a long moment, regarding the spill of near-priceless silk on his desk, before silently standing up and, with a few practiced movements, arranging it across his shoulders once more. _

_As his Captain sat down again, Renji could have sworn he heard a whispered 'thank you.'_

* * *

"Speaking of which," Byakuya continued, startling Renji out of his musings, "I have something I have been meaning to give you." Reaching below his desk, he retrieved a wooden box, black-lacquered to a glasslike sheen. It was roughly the length of Renji's forearm, undecorated save for a single, perfectly round disk of mother-of-pearl set into the center of the lid.

"For me, sir?"

"Yes. A promotion gift, if you will. Open it."

Curious, Renji tilted the lid of the box back on its invisible hinges, blinking as a layer of deep-green fabric was revealed inside.

It took the space of a heartbeat for his mind to catch up with his eyes; when it did, he withdrew the gift with shaking hands.

It was a scarf of windflower silk, the same impossibly valuable substance as Byakuya's own. Although this one seemed to be a much more practical length than Byakuya's - two arm-lengths instead of two body-lengths - Renji knew that the cost of this single piece of fabric was more than he'd make in a century, even at a Captain's wages.

"Sir, you..."

"Although I told you I would return my own to you on the day we could stand as equals, I thought this might be more suitable," Byakuya explained. "That, and I find myself... reluctant... to surrender my own scarf, given the memories attached to it."

"Of course not, sir, that's a family heirloom, you shouldn't give it up for someone like -"

"Memories of _you_, Renji."

That stopped him short. Eyes wide, Renji could only stare as Byakuya turned over the drape of fabric under his delicate throat, revealing the faint, faint trace of pink-brown that lingered on the cloth. "Memories of your passion, your sacrifice, your strength. Those are the memories this holds for me. They are the memories I do not wish to surrender."

Nodding faintly at the scarf in Renji's hands, he added, "I had that one commissioned for you the day you returned mine."

That had been almost two years ago.

"You... that... wait. You've known for _that long_ that I was gonna be promoted?!"

Byakuya didn't answer, but one corner of his delicate mouth quirked up. It was the closest the Kuchiki heir ever came to smirking, and Renji knew enough to recognize the 'you-won't-get-anything-else-out-of-me-without-torture' expression for what it was. Exhaling a sigh, he settled for a simple "Thank you, sir."

Byakuya gave a soft huff of amusement as he stood from behind his desk. "You do realize, Renji," he remarked as he stepped around the wooden barrier to stand before his former lieutenant, "that continuing to address me as 'sir' is somewhat ridiculous? After all," he added, plucking the deep-green scarf from Renji's fingers, gone numb with surprise, "we are the same rank, now."

Leaning forward, Byakuya gently settled the center of the scarf beneath Renji's throat. Moving slowly, he took an end of the scarf in each hand and wrapped his arms around Renji's shoulders. The movement pressed their chests together, leaving Renji too terrified to breathe. He could feel the gentle pulse of Byakuya's heartbeat against the wall of his own chest, the way the smaller man's body expanded with an indrawn breath. Here was the man he had pursued, idolized, _worshipped_ for so long, embracing him like a lover....

Byakuya shifted, drew back slightly, and drew the ends of the scarf gently forward over Renji's shoulders. He'd crossed the ends behind the younger man's neck, so that the scarf circled Renji's throat in the same fashion Byakuya's own did.

Smiling faintly, Byakuya tucked the trailing ends of the scarf carefully under the front of Renji's haori. Even through two layers of fabric, the ghost of a touch raised goosebumps on Renji's skin, forcing him to fight down a blush, as well as a few less... innocent reactions.

Stepping back to consider his work, Byakuya allowed the faintest hint of a smirk to cross his features. "Breath, Renji," he ordered quietly, and tried not to look too amused when the younger man took a gasping breath, drinking in heady scent of Byakuya that he was now wreathed in.

'_Green tea and sakura blossoms.... Gods, he's going to be the death of me...' _"You did that on purpose," Renji accused, once he'd gotten some of his equilibrium back.

"Indeed," Byakuya answered dryly as he returned to his seat, the picture of perfect, unruffled calm. "These are for you as well," he added, gathering the sheaf of papers he'd been working on earlier.

Eyebrows bunching, Renji took the papers and scanned over them. "Transferral papers... for Rikichi? He put in for a transfer already?"

"No, doubtless he is still gathering courage to do so."

" 'Gathering courage'? Taichou, what'd ya do to the kid?"

"You do recall the treatment I subjected your letter of resignation to?"

Renji snorted, remembering only too well Byakuya pouring the confettied remains of his letter into his lap, the evening after their argument. "You mean, ya' attacked my letter with Senbonzakura _in front of 'im_?"

When Byakuya's only response was for his elegant cheekbones to grow half a shade pinker, Renji snorted in amazement. "Poor kid. It's a wonder he didn't die of fright. You need to be nicer to your subordinates, Kuchiki-taichou."

"Renji, earning the rank of captain does not give you the right to berate me on my leadership habits."

"No, sir. Sorry, sir."

Reaching across the desk, Byakuya gently folded down the lid of the lacquered box, letting his fingers trace idly over the mother-of-pearl disk. "Renji, how long have you been a Shinigami?"

Blinking at the non-sequitur, Renji scratched the back of his head for a second as he mentally totted up years. "Uh... fifty...two years, sir? Forty-six if you count from graduating the Academy. Why?"

"Did you know that I have been a Shinigami for one hundred and seven years?"

Startled, Renji shook his head. He'd never even considered it, to be quite honest. Somehow, it had always seemed as though Kuchiki-taichou had been _born_ a Shinigami, rather than needing to achieve the rank.

"And you achieved Bankai within forty-four years of graduating the Academy?"

"Uhm..." Had it really been two years since The Ichigo Incident? "Yeah, I guess. Why do you ask?"

"It never occurred to you, I take it, to wonder how long it took me to reach Bankai."

Renji shook his head again, feeling as though the world had canted a few degrees to the side. "No, sir."

"Sixty-four years."

For a second, he thought he had heard wrong. Sixty-four years... twenty years longer than it had taken Renji himself.

"You see, Renji," Byakuya said softly, graceful fingers sweeping again over the disk of pearl, "when you first spoke of surpassing me, I mocked you, saying that you were nothing more than a monkey chasing the reflected moon, thinking that you were certain to drown in your ambitions. But... you proved me wrong. It was a harsh lesson, for us both."

Pushing the box forward again, he lifted his gaze to meet Renji's. "For so long, you have fought to surpass me, never realizing... that you had already done so."


	12. Revelations and Rebellion

A/N: Wow, this story has taken off all of the sudden! I had decided, a couple of weeks ago, that I would do a request-fic for whomever got the 100th review for this story. I didn't mention it in the last chapter, because the story had 79 reviews at the time.

At the time of posting for this chapter, it has 98. Therefore, **I will be gifting a free one shot to my 150th reviewer**. Just so that everyone has a chance to get the news....

I will also, due to reviewer demand, be writing an extension of the 'Giving the Finger/Noodle Incident' in Chapter 9. This is as a thank-you for having reached over *five thousand hits* on RDBH. Guys, THANK YOU! You are the best audience I could ask for, and I hope I never disappoint.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Eleven: Revelations and Rebellion

The door to the office slid on smooth tracks, clicking quietly shut behind Renji. Still seated at his desk, Byakuya stared after his former subordinate long after the other man had disappeared; gone off to his own division, out of Byakuya's sight and space, where Byakuya's own words had sent him. He took with him the warmth and cinnamon-scented storm of his reiatsu, the wild, passionate drive drive and determination that had always marked him.

The office felt much colder in his absence.

Dropping his head into his hands, Byakuya permitted himself a rough, shaking exhale that, in a weaker man, might almost have been a sob.

"I am a fool..."

* * *

Feeling numb, Renji walked the familiar corridors of the Sixth Division on autopilot, absently returning the greetings of his former fellows. Had he been more aware, it might have amused him to hear how many of them began "Good evening, fuku -" before breaking off in varying degrees of shock as they took in the pristinely white haori billowing around him.

"Good - oh! Congratulations, Renji-san!"

The familiar voice snapped Renji out of his daze, and he smiled down at the dark-haired boy who stood before him, broom held loosely in one hand. "Rikichi! Good, I was looking for you. Kuchiki-taichou handed these down a few minutes ago," he grinned, slapping the papers into the young man's chest.

"I.... what is this, sir?"

"Find out when ya read 'em, won't you?" Renji answered, grinning wider. He couldn't help but like the kid - he was a decent soldier, if not a strong one, dutiful and surprisingly brave. Much like Renji, he stood up for what he believed in and felt was right.

"These are... transferral papers? For me??"

"You got it, kid. Welcome to the Fifth."

From Rikichi's startled expression, an effortless transfer was the last thing he'd been expecting to come out of Kuchiki-taichou's office.

"Kuchiki-taichou... transfered me? Just like that?" He didn't seem disappointed; rather, quite relieved. Not surprising, if he had witnessed Byakuya going postal on Renji's letter.

"Just like that. He's not a bad guy, yanno."

"If you say so, Renji-san... I mean, Abarai-taichou!"

"I do," Renji answered firmly. "Pack up your gear; I'll make sure there's a spot ready for you at the Fifth by tomorrow."

"Aye. aye, sir!" Rikichi answered, snapping to attention and saluting. It would have been slightly less absurd if his hair beads hadn't swung up and nearly smacked him in the eye in the process, but it was the thought that counted.

"Oh, would you... ah, like me to carry your box, sir?"

"No, I've got it." The polished wooden chest was held securely under Renji's arm, and he doubted he'd be letting go of it anytime soon. It was the only thing he'd carried out of the office; he would send someone back for his possessions and supplies. This was what mattered to him, now.

"Oh, that's quite pretty... I like the moon."

Huh? Moon? "What are you talking about?"

"On the lid... isn't that a moon?"

"Eh?" Turning the box slightly, Renji looked down at the pearlescent disk gleaming in the black surface. After a second, his eyes flew wide.

"The moon's... in my hands..." Feeling his heart nearly stop in his chest, Renji stared at the circle of mother-of-pearl. _The monkey chases the moon reflected in the water... but no matter how close he seems to seizing it, it is only a reflection._

_Not anymore, _Renji realized, drawing in a deeper breath and holding the box tighter with shaking hands. This was solid, tangible... _real_.

"Sir?" Rikichi was still peering at him, now looking slightly concerned. "Are you all right?"

"It's... never mind, kid. I'll see ya tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Sure, Abarai-taichou. Goodnight!"

"Yeah, 'night," Renji mumbled, and drifted out of the Sixth Division in a fog. The numb shock he'd felt when Byakuya told him, in so many words, that Renji had surpassed him years ago was nothing compared to this.

Rikichi was right; the pale disk on the lid of the box was an image of the moon. And it had been placed in Renji's hands...

It was in this astonishment-numbed state that he drifted his way back to the Fifth Division, mumbled a greeting to Hinamori, and found his bed.

The astonishment only continued the next day, when he entered his office a few minutes past dawn to discover that all of his furniture had been replaced with top-quality heirloom pieces.

* * *

The meeting hall of the Kuchiki main house was usually occupied only by drifting dust motes and the servants that pursued them. This morning, however, it was full to bursting with all of the clan elders, including the distinguished presence of Kuchiki Ginrei himself.

The gathering - inadvertently suggested by Yoroichi, deliberately ordered by Byakuya - had the Elders, particularly Byakuya's formidable paternal grandmother, in something of an uproar. Well, a noble uproar, at any rate, which consisted primarily of a great number of furtive looks and irritable whispers.

Outside the doors of the hallway, two figures paused for a moment, gathering themselves before they entered the hornet's nest within the room.

"Are you really sure about this, Nii-sama?" Rukia whispered anxiously, tugging at the Lieutenant's badge she'd fastened to the obi of her formal kimono. She'd put it there on her brother's suggestion, in an attempt to remind the overbearing Elders that she was no longer a doll to be toyed with, but a ranking officer in her own right.

"Quite. My concern is not their reaction in regards to my decision; it is that they will attempt to force you into an arranged marriage because of it. If that happens, I -"

"Don't worry about me, Nii-sama. I can handle that, if they even think of trying it."

Handle it? Byakuya frowned before he could stop himself. If they'd had more time before the meeting was to begin, he would have pursued that thought. How exactly did she propose to 'handle it'? "Someone will, Rukia. Our Elders are nothing if not stubborn; they will not surrender the notion of a clan child."

Rukia snickered before she could help it, stifling the sound behind her hand when Byakuya shot her a stern glance. He looked every inch the noble this morning, wearing a deep blue kimono with delicate sakura petals embroidered in pink and silver along the collar, cuffs, and hem. The wide obi was black with threads of silver tracing through it, and the Kuchiki family crest gleamed in silver on his back, highlighting the silver of his under-robe.

Rukia, by contrast, felt awkward in her elegant clothes; the soft silk of the lavender-hued kimono and the silver-blue under-robe she wore clung to her in ways the coarser cotton and linen of the shihakusho didn't, and the indigo-and-silver obi felt constrictive, making it difficult to draw a full breath.

Of course, that could be nerves, too.

"Open the doors," Byakuya ordered the two servants, and Rukia steeled herself as the barrier rolled away.

Nerves. Yeah.

* * *

Byakuya entered the meeting hall with steady strides, his kimono rippling exquisitely around his body as he moved. He knew this; appearance, presentation, the airs of the noble. The cloak of arrogance had settled around his shoulders, just as real to him as the silken scarf it joined.

Behind him, Rukia moved more cautiously, the slightest bit too focused on keeping her steps small and dainty, her poise straight, her delicate hands in their sleeves held at the perfect angle before her. Most eyes would see nothing more than perfection in her movements, but she moved before the eyes of the Kuchiki clan.

There was nothing for it; he would give her every assistance he could, but he had his own battle to fight. Rukia had not been born into the Clan, but she'd learned the politicking and backstabbing just as easily as if she had. Perhaps it was a result of growing up in Inuzuri; though at times, he wondered if fighting starvation in Inuzuri was not, overall, a kinder fate than fighting the maneuvering of the Clan Elders.

Moving to the head of the table, he settled effortlessly into a seiza, freeing his ever-more-impatient clansmen to seat themselves as well. There was a general muttering, nothing unexpected, as he silently unsealed the bottle of sake sitting before him.

The delicate, ceremonial cups before the other members of the Clan were already full; as Clan Head, he poured his own, in order to ensure no one sought to poison him when his back was turned.

He silently toasted Ginrei, seated at the opposite end of the table, then Rukia, sitting at his left, before toasting the rest of the gathered Clan and drinking. The gentle clinking of cups being set down covered his uneasy cough; frowning, he drew himself higher on his knees before schooling his face to impassiveness and addressing his Clan.

"Honored Elders, fellow members of my Clan, I greet you. I have summoned you here today to address an issue that festers in your minds, causing discord among us.

"A month ago, I was counseled by my esteemed grandmother -" Someone, perhaps Ginrei himself, coughed at that, probably knowing full well just what Byakuya thought of his 'esteemed' Grandmother.

" - to seek out a new wife, so that I might provide the Kuchiki clan with a new blood heir in the event of my own death or incapacitation. I have given this... request.... great consideration."

Rather say, he'd spent countless hours arguing with Yoroichi and himself over the damned ultimatum they'd thrown in his face, but it wouldn't do to say that aloud, not here...

"After giving due thought and concern to this request, I must expressly and completely refuse."

Well, _that_ certainly put a cat in the dovecote. Ginrei was the only one remaining silent; several of Byakuya's uncles had leapt to their feet, shouting - no doubt hoping that their spoiled, powerless sons would now be considered for position of Heir. His grandmother had gone quite red in the face under her heavy makeup, and he was quite that the din made it impossible to make out what any one of them was saying.

Beside him, Rukia rolled her eyes in disgust. "And they call themselves nobles," she whispered, low enough that only he could hear. "I've seen parties in the Eleventh that were more civilized!"

"Precisely what were you doing at parties in the Eleventh, Rukia?" he murmured back to her, watching with mild amusement as she turned nearly fuchsia with embarrassment. Well, that was a subject to come back to later.

By the time they finally shouted themselves out, his grandmother had recovered herself enough to recall the second half of her threat to him.

"If you will not take a suitable wife, then _she_," one bony finger jabbed in Rukia's direction - "must take a husband! We will begin searching the available candidates immediately for a male to give your children the proper blood -"

"I'm afraid that will be quite unnecessary, Grandmother," Rukia interrupted smoothly.

Byakuya raised his eyebrows a fraction; nobody noticed, of course, all their attention was on the adopted Rukongai brat who'd just had the temerity to interrupt an Honored Elder of the Kuchiki Clan.

At the far end of the table, Ginrei had covered his mouth with his sleeve; Byakuya felt quite certain the old man was trying not to laugh.

"Oh? And pray tell, child, why will it be unnecessary for us to seek you a proper husband? I suppose you already have someone in mind, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, Honored Grandmother, I do."

This time, Byakuya's eyebrows felt as though they might leap off his forehead in surprise. Certainly she'd never mentioned anything to _him_ about a prospective husband! Was this how she thought to 'handle' the Elder's proposal?

"Oh? And just who might this potential mate of yours be, child? Certainly not some Rukongai trash, I trust?"

The '_like yourself'_ was unspoken, but the sudden, knife-edged press of Byakuya's reiatsu filling the room made it quite clear that the insult - unspoken or not - was understood, and not at all appreciated. Rukia, beside him, sat still and unbothered by the storm of power, hands still demurely folded in her lap and face properly downcast - no doubt to hide the stubborn set to her mouth.

Byakuya's grandmother, insensitive though she was to reiatsu, was not so blind as to miss the furious intensity of the energy boiling through the room. She bowed a small and no-doubt insincere apology in Rukia's direction, and Byakuya stifled his energy with a thought.

"He is not from Rukongai, honored grandmother; he is, in fact, an extremely powerful and highly respected Shinigami Captain," Rukia replied calmly, her voice expressionless and level.

A Captain?? Byakuya had to fight not to turn and stare at his sister out of sheer, overwhelming bewilderment. Unless she was planning to marry Soifon - or, gods forbid, Kurotsuchi! - he couldn't think of a single unattached Captain, let alone one Rukia would wish to marry - that hadn't come from the Rukon districts.

Except... surely she couldn't mean -

"Oh? And just who is this powerful Captain, child?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo, honored Grandmother."

* * *

"I didn't think they'd _agree_ to it!" Rukia wailed an hour later, raking her fingers through her hair for the umpteenth time. She'd been pacing the interior of Byakuya's private quarters for the last half an hour, wearing only the under-robe from her earlier outfit, trying to wrap her head around the fact that the Elders had not only _agreed_ to her marrying Ichigo - they'd _supported_ it!

"I figured he was the perfect foil - they'd be so angry about me choosing a human, and an unblooded Shinigami, that they'd all fall into infighting about how wrong he was and how each of their potential suitors was the best, and the whole thing would be put off until we could think of a permanent solution!"

Sitting patiently at his desk, wrapped in a house yukata and sipping tea, Byakuya found himself in a similar, if less expressive, state of turmoil. As much as he had once hated the Kurosaki boy, he could not deny his strength of hand or character. It was no question that the boy was an asset to the Seireitei, now that he was a part of it; that still didn't mean Byakuya wanted him as a brother-in-law.

There was also no question that Kurosaki Ichigo was still an ill-mannered lout without the breeding of a mongrel, but his blood was... powerful. And it seemed to breed true; according to Hitsugaya, one of Ichigo's sisters had impressive spirit powers as well.

And power was, always, what the powerful sought.

And truthfully, if it was a choice between Ichigo and some of the other candidates his family members were likely to propose....

"Are you unwilling to wed Ichigo?"

Rukia blinked at him, stopping short in midpace. "No, of course not. I know better to offer more than I'm willing to give, and... well..." she trailed off nervously, digging one big toe against the tatami mats.

"And?" he prompted calmly, setting his cup down to give her his full attention.

"And I'd kind of... maybe... thought about it? For real, I mean?" She blinked up at him, her expression pleading under dark eyelashes.

The thought surprised him at first; Rukia, considering marriage? Particularly of her own free will? Then again, perhaps not as surprising as he'd initially thought... given the bond between herself and the Visored, and how long they had lived and fought together, perhaps it had been somewhat inevitable.

"I see," he answered simply, picking up his cup again. "And what about Renji?"

"What _about_ Renji?" she parroted back, blinking at him in confusion.

"There is not a romantic attraction between you?"

Rukia snorted. "He's a brother to me, Nii-sama. I love him, but I'd never want to sleep with him!"

A relief on many counts... not the least of which was that Renji had been truthful about her purity.

Then again, Byakuya realized, surrendering his sister to Kurosaki Ichigo would hardly require the constraints and dignity of a noble ceremony.

"Besides, he's so devoted to you, he'd never be interested in me."

Wait, _what_? "I beg your pardon!" Byakuya sputtered, trying valiantly not to spit tea all over his table.

Rukia giggled at him. _Giggled_! "Nii-sama, you don't know? Boys are so blind sometimes... Renji's completely devoted to you. I'd call it infatuation, but I think it's really more than that. He's been so entranced by you for so long, I almost think he's in love."

In... love? He'd known for some time now that there was something beyond mere admiration in Renji's pursuit of him, something more than a desire to reclaim the family that the Kuchiki had stolen from him. It was that knowledge, in part, that had led him to bare his skin and show his Zanpakutou mark to the younger man, an action that was both a cruel taunt and a gracious reward But to think that Renji's feelings ran any deeper than simple, carnal lust...

Byakuya shook his head slightly, trying to make the world lie level again. "Rukia, you must be mistaken. Renji has always desired to surpass me, but -"

"It's more than just that, Nii-sama," Rukia interrupted, wincing even as she did so at her breech of manners. However, her nerves were still getting the better of her after the meeting, and she tumbled on with her train of thought. "He always wanted to surpass Kira, in the Academy - Kira's always been so good at kidou, you know, that's why they asked him to train Ichigo, I guess, but Renji never _obsessed_ about him like he does you. I've known him for longer than you have, remember. And I've never seen him get that obsessed about something that he didn't eventually achieve... if he doesn't love you, Nii-sama, he's very close to it, and he's going to keep fighting to win your respect and attention."

The clunk of the water clock outside punctuated her sentence; Rukia glanced through the open door and yelped when she caught sight of the sundial.

"I have to get to work! I told Ukitake-taichou I'd only be an hour late because of the Clan meeting!"

Bemused, he watched her shift from chiding matchmaker to frantic lieutenant; bolting from his room back to her own quarters, only to reappear a moment later, wearing her full shihakusho, lieutenant's badge snug on her arm, sprinting full-out along the slickly polished wood of the outside hall.

"I'll propose to Ichigo at lunch!" she called in to him as she raced by; he raised a hand in acknowledgment, but she was already gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts, once again in turmoil.

Renji lusting after him would not have been a surprise - anyone who'd spent time in the Eleventh tended to confuse battle-lust and bedding-lust, but... _loving_ him?

His teasing embrace of his former lieutenant the previous night came back to him in a rush of remembered sensation; the near-scorching heat of Renji's skin under his fingertips, the sharp, cinnamon-and-sandalwood scent that clung to that impossibly red hair, the stark contrast of golden skin and black ink, viewed so close he could have laid his lips against it as easily as taking a breath....

And now, Renji might - if Rukia was to believed - have feelings for him that went beyond simple desire and admiration? Was it possible, that, after all these years, there was finally someone else whom he could entrust with his heart?

_If, _the naggingly pessimistic side of his mind countered_, Rukia is right. If it's not just some twisted way of defeating you on his part. If the Elders don't go mad at the very suggestion of their Clan Head taking a male lover instead of a wife. _

Sighing, he finished his tea, set aside his cup and his thoughts, and got up to dress.

* * *

"Ichigo, I need to talk to you!"

"Good morning to you too, Rukia. I'm fine, thank you for asking," Ichigo growled, bent over a pile of requisition forms on his desk.

Kira, sitting at the desk opposite him, nodded a greeting to Rukia and went back to his own work, though not without half an ear on their conversation. Although they'd been at different classes in the Academy, he knew Rukia well enough, mostly through Renji, that he considered her an informal friend. Certainly he knew her well enough to judge her temper by her too-expressive body language. And something in the way Rukia was carrying herself suggested this was going to be interesting...

"Why the hell does a division of a hundred and eighty-nine members need three hundred and fifteen shihakusho, anyway?" Ichigo demanded of no-one in particular, scribbling something on a notepad by his elbow.

Stalking forward, Rukia planted her fists on Ichigo's desk, leaning over the polished wood surface to stare at him. "Ichigo, we're getting married."

He blinked once, clearly distracted. "Hang on a second, Rukia," he ordered tersely, waving her away with one hand. "Kira, make a note to have me get Ishida down here and teach these idiots how to sew? There's no excuse for them going through that many uniforms, I don't care how tough the training regimen is."

Kira nodded, one hand automatically reaching for the book he kept, mentally counting down. He'd gotten to know Ichigo pretty well over the course of his training, and the explosion would be coming in eight... seven...

"Now, Rukia, what did you just say?"

Five, four...

"I said, we're getting married. You and I."

Two...

"That's what I thought you said."

One.... now.

"_Are you out of your mind_?! We can't get _married_!"

Muffling a snicker, Kira mentally patted himself on the back as he made the note about contacting Ishida. Probably the Quincy would wind up doing the wedding kimono, as well. Although part the Kuchiki fortune was said to be a wealth of silks and formal kimono...

"And just why not?"

"I'm too young, for one thing! Both of us just got promoted, we have our responsibilities to our squads, and, hello, I still have a family in the world of the Living that I can only see on weekends as it is! I'm not going to marry someone and give up the rest of my life!"

"I didn't say you're marrying _someone_, I said you're marrying _me_! Your family loves me! I'm basically married to you in their eyes anyway!!"

"That's beside the point! Why should I marry you, anyway? And why now?!"

"Because the Kuchiki clan ordered me to marry, and you're the only available option I can tolerate!"

"_Tolerate_?!"

"Yes, tolerate! Even though you're a pain to live with..."

"_I'm_ a pain to live with?! What about _you_, you little brat?!"

Kira had to bite down on his sleeve in order to muffle his snickers. By now, the shouting had drawn half the Division to the office, and Kira imagined it was only a matter of time before someone tried to sneak in disguised as a persimmon tree.

"So what, you'd rather see me married off to one of Nii-sama's idiotic, power-hungry cousins?!"

"Stop putting words in my mouth! Just say you don't want to get married yet!"

"That isn't how it works in the noble houses, you moron!! If I was a Kuchiki by blood, I'd have been married decades ago!"

"You're not a Kuchiki by blood, so why does it matter if you marry or not?! Of all the stupid ideas - mmph!"

Well, that was certainly one way to stop the shouting, Kira reflected mildly, as Rukia hauled Ichigo bodily over the desk and kissed him.

* * *

*an unblooded Shinigami/without the breeding of a mongrel: (SPOILER/ Manga 186) Isshin's status as a Shinigami will be addressed much later in the story; however, I'm maintaining my original plotline in which nobody from the Seireitei proper is actually aware of his identity, and therefore Ichigo's heritage. (END SPOILER)

Also, I know very little of the ceremonies and processes of noble houses, and as such pulled that entire sequence out of my ear. Please forgive any mistakes.

And yes, it's a het pairing. Stop screaming, XD. They won't get as much attention as ByaRen or my other pairings. And IchiHime shippers, please refrain from murdering me. The humans won't be addressed in RDBH, but apparently.... I will be writing a sequel. And Orihime will be happy, so don't fret.


	13. Breaking Point: Kira

A/N: Wow. _Nineteen_ reviews on the last chapter. You guys are beyond incredible! Think we can beat that number for this chapter? Also, **don't forget that my 150th reviewer for this story will get a free request one-shot. **

**WARNINGS**: Wow, been a while since I've had to add that tag... However, the second half of this chapter does contain non-descriptive **violence, angst**, and some 'trauma therapy.' It was difficult for me to write, emotionally speaking, but needed to be included to explain Kira's continuing recovery. If any readers feel they will be offended by the material, please do not read beyond the 'Warnings Apply After This Point' tag about midway through the chapter. Flames will not be accepted; you have been given adequate warning.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Twelve: Breaking Point: Kira

Ayasegawa Yumichika lived his life in fear.

He feared that someone would learn of his true Shikai, and his Captain and Ikkaku would come to hate him.

For all his glib words about 'dying happy in a grand fight,' he feared, every time that Ikkaku went to battle, that he would lose his partner of over a century.

He feared hatred, and loss, and ugliness, and did his utmost to avoid all of them. And it had worked pretty well for the past couple hundred years, or so he thought.

And then, in the course of one morning, his entire life turned upside-down.

Bloody, stupid, ugly Ikkaku had _known_ about Ruri'iro Kujaku for almost as long as Yumi himself had, and not only did he _not_ hate Yumi for having a kidou blade, he thought it would be _pretty_ and wanted to _see_ it!

Yumichika might happily have beaten him to a bloody pulp with his scabbard, except that ruffian Hisagi hauled him off of Ikkaku by the back of his collar while that cue-ball headed nitwit laughed himself silly.

And then, that ruffian Hisagi had asked him to be lieutenant. _Lieutenant_!! Ayasegawa-fukutaichou did have a nice ring to it - it sounded quite beautiful, really - but lieutenant of the _Ninth_. The Ninth, with their absurd little Buttercup of Oblivion and those ridiculous sleeveless shihakusho.

Hisagi wanted him to leave the Eleventh, the only division he'd ever known. It was the one he'd followed Ikkaku and Zaraki to, over a century ago, the position he'd taken in a rain of blood.

And now he was being asked to abandon it all....

And then Ikkaku, damn him, said that Yumi was too _good_ for the Eleventh, and had dragged him off to see Zaraki before he could give Hisagi a straight answer. And when Ikkaku had burst into Zaraki's office and blurted out that 'He's been approached for a Lieutenant's seat,' Zaraki had shocked the hell out of Yumichika by calmly fishing a sheaf of papers out of his desk drawer. They were transferral papers - for Yumichika, and half-completed. The ink was faded; it looked like they'd been filled out quite some time ago.

"Which division?" Zaraki had asked, inking a brush as he spread the papers out.

"Ninth. Hisagi was promoted this morning."

"I know that, idiot. I voted for him. Told him yes, right?" The last was addressed to Yumichika, who hadn't managed to get his mouth working yet.

"I didn't tell him anything!" Yumichika squawked, indignant, when he finally regained control of his tongue. Folding his arms across his chest, he added sniffily, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me!"

"Moron. I _am_ tryin' to get rid of you; I don't like to see a good officer wasted. S'why I recommended Abarai when Lieutenant in the Sixth came open."

Yumichika's jaw dropped, along with his stomach. "Is this about my Zanpakutou?" he asked quietly, after a moment.

"No," Zaraki grunted, scribbling information on the papers. "Wha'sa matter with it?"

"Nothing, nothing!"

Zaraki snorted at him and scrawled his signature.

And just like that, Yumichika was handed a sheaf of papers, and he was no longer a member of the Eleventh.

* * *

Fast-forward two days, and Yumichika was returning to the barracks of the Eleventh to retrieve his belongings in preparation for the move into his new quarters. He strolled past the gate without being challenged, but felt the eyes of the squad descend on him as soon as he stepped into the grounds.

It was just before lunch, which meant that most of the Eleventh was out training, drinking, or both, taking advantage of the morning sun. It didn't take long for the whispers to start; he ignored them for the first minute or two, until he heard the word 'coward.' Someone snickered, and the word suddenly echoed in a dozen voices across the courtyard, _coward, coward, coward!_

Stopping short, he settled one hand on Kujaku's hilt. "All right!" he snapped, pitching his voice to carry in the instant silence.

"Unfounded accusations are an ugly thing," he growled, fingers gliding across the purple silk wrapping his blade's hilt. "Not one of you hideous ruffians deserve my regard or my time, but I'm leaving a gap in the ranks that needs to be filled. Just so I don't have to look at the lot of you any longer than necessary, we'll do this Eleventh Division style. I'm sure you all know my seat is vacant; first one to mark me gets it."

There was only a heartbeat to wait before they attacked. He dispatched the first wave with easy movements; a kick to the head here, punch to the gut there, a dozen sent sprawling with a wave of reiatsu. Not one of them touched him, and he hadn't even drawn his blade.

The second wave was smarter; veterans, rather than raw recruits, and not all of them had Ikkaku's bullheadedness. They analyzed his attacks, came at different angles and two or three at a time, blades ready and balanced in their hands.

Kujaku cleared his sheath with the sound of singing metal. One man lost a hand when he didn't move quite fast enough; the others managed to parry him for a stroke or two, but it didn't take him more than two minutes to drop the last of the second wave to the ground.

The first group were on their feet again, with the exception of the few he'd knocked unconscious, and they were more careful this time, darting rather than charging, trying to find a weakness, something they could exploit. They found nothing.

A few beads of sweat broke out across Yumichika's forehead, but the last of his current opponents fell before he was even breathing heavily. The third wave came in right on their backs.

Within five minutes, he was sweat-soaked and filthy, splashed with the blood of his opponents and a fine coating of dust, his shihakusho torn and dirty, but his skin uncut.

He'd thrown himself so deeply into the fight, let himself get so lost to the roar of blood in his ears and the song of metal on metal, that it took him a moment to process after his last opponent fell away, bleeding from a wound in his side, that he'd defeated all of them.

It wasn't until he stopped and seriously _looked_ that he realized he'd taken out over half the Division.

A snicker from the direction of the gate brought his attention and his blade around, but it was Ikkaku, lounging on top of the fence with a broad grin. Zaraki and Yachiru were standing near the gate, along with... Hisagi?!

"I felt your reiatsu surge," Shuuhei said by way of explanation, his eyes roaming over the unconscious and semiconscious bodies littering the courtyard. "I wasn't sure if you were in trouble." He paused a moment, raised an eyebrow. "I should remember that you can take perfectly good care of yourself."

"Yeah, an' that's with a ten-point handicap," Ikkaku drawled. "Ain't none of 'em seen his real power."

Yumichika smirked faintly, remembering Ikkaku's comment to Shuuhei two mornings earlier, how much he envied Hisagi for having seen Ruri'iro Kujaku's shikai.

'_Lucky bastard. I've heard it's beautiful._'

Drawing a deep breath, he shouted the command. "Split and deviate, Ruri'iro Kujaku!"

It was terrifying, really; he'd never have done it if he'd been thinking, but his blood was still up from the fight and adrenaline was making his body sing, a song that was echoed in his mind as Kujaku unfurled his power in front of their oldest friends for the first time.

Ikkaku's eyes gleamed. Yumichika was dazzling, a blood-splashed, barbarian warrior, with the iridescent blue vines of his Zanpakutou's true release twining with deadly grace around the scattered figures of the Eleventh. It was an intoxicating sight, and Ikkaku felt his own blood rise with a multitude of longings. It was all he could do not to leap down off the wall he was sitting on, cross the distance between himself and Yumichika and -

Movement below, a swirl of white, shocked him out of his heated fantasies. Zaraki had stepped forward, moving towards the twining mass of vines. The hard, scar-slashed face was set in a surprisingly innocent expression of curiosity as he reached out, touching one of the glowing strands.

Immediately, the vine coiled around his wrist; not restraining him, since he wasn't trying to escape, simply getting a secure hold. The glowing flowers began to grow almost instantly as it touched him.

* * *

Even though Zaraki was behind him, Yumichika knew the exact instant his former Captain had let himself be touched by Kujaku's vines. The exhilarating rush of power, flavored like raw lightning, rushed through him. He didn't allow Kujaku to siphon off more than a sip of the man's power, but it was still enough to make his fingers tingle, and he hadn't even bitten into the restorative blossoms yet.

Zaraki was truly a monster, to have a reiatsu so powerful.

His other, scattered victims were even luckier; he only took the merest fraction of strength from them, just enough for them to know the truth of his abilities. _I can drain you. I can kill you. It is only because of my restraint that you are still alive._

That would anger those Eleventh-division hotheads like nothing else. Smirking, he unwound the vines that had entrapped the defeated brawlers, turning his back on them long enough to pluck a single flower from the vine still twisted around Zaraki's wrist.

Delicately lifting the blossom to his mouth, he plucked one petal away with his lips, feeling it dissolve into vibrant energy on his tongue. If he'd been buoyant after tasting Hisagi's energy, he was virtually _flying_ now.

Sealing and sheathing Kujaku in a single, smooth motion, he carefully separated two more petals from the flower he held. The first, he handed to Hisagi with a polite bow. The young Captain took it, curious, and nibbled the tip of it as Yumichika turned away.

Ikkaku dropped silently from the wall as his partner approached, straightening to gaze down into somber violet eyes.

"Thanks," he muttered gruffly, half-wishing he could break away from that hypnotizing gaze and half thankful that he couldn't bear to do so. "Means a lot, that y' showed me."

"Mmhm. Open up," Yumi murmured, his voice honeyed velvet, and Ikkaku opened his mouth without thinking. The stray flower petal that Yumichika had been holding was slipped delicately between his lips, and the flavor of lightning exploded across Ikkaku's tongue.

* * *

A few minutes later, four figures lingered outside the gates of the Eleventh. Hisagi was standing a short distance away from the others, letting his new lieutenant bid goodbye to his old teammates in his own sweet time. Ayasegawa and Ikkaku were almost toe-to-toe, speaking in low voices, while Zaraki, with his standard pink-haired adornment, leaned against the gatepost and watched.

"Gotcha' gift," Ikkaku grunted, producing a wooden box from apparently nowhere. Given that it was nearly the size of a shoebox, it was a fairly impressive bit of prestidigitation.

"Gift?" Yumichika echoed, his voice pitching upwards in surprise. "For me?"

"Well, you'n Kujaku. Op'n it."

Never one to refuse a gift or his own curiosity, Yumichika lifted away the lid of the box and let out a gasp of delight.

Nestled in the velvet lining of the box were two exquisite wrist cuffs, made of bronze - to match the Lieutenant's badge - inlaid with tiny, faceted emeralds and sapphires, patterned to create the impression of feathers glittering in the metal. They were sized and styled almost like ornamental greaves; they would span from his wrist almost halfway up his forearm, opening with a hidden hinge in the metal and fastening on the inside of the arm with two tiny clasps.

Also in the box was a sapphire-blue choker, made of a cord of woven silk decorated with beads of bronze and emerald, designed to compliment the wrist-cuffs.

And, tucked into the corner of the box as an afterthought, was a length of sapphire silk the width of Yumichika's spread hand, just long enough to comfortably fasten around his upper arm. A new band, color-complimenting his jewelry, for his Lieutenant's badge.

"Ikkaku..." he whispered, unable to think beyond the beauty of the items in front of him, the care and thought that had gone into selecting them. "Ikkaku, these... they're wonderful." A sniffle escaped him, and he moaned softly, wiping the back of his free hand across his eyes. "You oaf, you're going to make me cry, and that's such an ugly thing..."

"Ah, stop bawlin' and kiss 'im already, ya idiot!" Zaraki bellowed from all of ten feet away, making everyone jump. Yumichika sniffed once more, then took the good advice, wrapping his delicate hand around the back of Ikkaku's head to draw the man in for a kiss.

The motions were familiar, long-perfected and often practiced, but never had the flavor been like this; blood and sweat and dust, always, but never with an aftertaste of lightning and tears.

They parted, staring at one another for a heartbeat, before Ikkaku grabbed the orange collar encircling Yumichika's neck and hauled him in for another kiss, rougher, more desperate, saying everything that Ikkaku felt but couldn't vocalize, and when they pulled apart again Yumichika didn't bother to wipe away his tears.

"Stay out of trouble, Ikkaku," he mock-ordered, sniffing and trying to laugh. "I'll be coming around to keep an eye on you, and if I even suspect your eyes are straying..."

"Never happen," Ikkaku answered promptly, his eyes clear but his voice rough. Glancing over Yumichika's shoulder, he found Shuuhei watching them. There was a sad smile on the boy's face that he didn't want to think too hard on.

"Don't work him too hard, kid. And I expect to see him back here, a lot."

"As a Lieutenant, he's expected to live within the Squad compound," Shuuhei answered, voice casual, and Ikkaku was about to tell him to go to hell when he added mildly, "but of course, Third Seats are free to bunk wherever they please..."

Ikkaku froze, but Yumichika twisted around in front of him, turning to stare at his Captain with openmouthed astonishment.

"...even another Squad's barracks, provided they have permission from both their Captain and that of the other Squad." Casually, Shuuhei turned and began walking back towards the Ninth, his strides slow and confident. "See you around, Madarame-san."

There was a moment of dead silence as the Ikkaku and Yumichika stared after him, quickly broken by Yachiru's giggled, "Ken-chan, they look like koi fish, with their mouths open like that!!"

Dragged out of his stunned stupor, Ikkaku blinked twice as Shuuhei's words finally sank in. Letting out a triumphant whoop, he dragged Yumichika around for one last, victorious kiss.

* * *

**Warnings Apply After This Point**

* * *

There was a ripe persimmon sitting on the corner of Ichigo's desk.

Ichigo had brought it in with him when he entered the office that morning, probably intending to keep it in case he missed lunch; he'd done so yesterday, when he'd given up his lunch break to explain the 'situation with Rukia' to Renji, so that the volatile redhead could hear it straight from the horse's mouth, as it where, rather than overhearing it from the rumor mill.

It was a reasonable precaution, and Kira applauded good common sense in the abstract, but... it was a persimmon. No doubt it had come from one of the persimmon trees that still flourished in their ceramic pots in the quarters of the Third's Captain. It had been Rangiku, half-hysterical and sobbing, that had spared the trees the same fate as all of Gin's other possessions; they reminded her of their childhood, she'd said, and Kira had capitulated, allowing the trees to remain when the rest of Gin's things had been gathered into a pile in the courtyard and burned.

It had been Rangiku who had come into the barracks of the Third weekly from that point on, tending the half-dozen persimmon trees that were scattered about the premises, including the two in Gin's old quarters. At Kira's request, she'd removed the two from the office - he learned later that they had been transplanted to her own, though how Hitsugaya felt about that, he had no idea.

It hadn't occurred to him that Ichigo would like persimmons.

Gin had eaten them dried, rather than fresh, but the distinctive, faintly bitter scent of the fruit touched his nose, and he felt the muscles in his shoulders contract with ingrained... not fear, precisely, but tension.

"_Kira_."

He jumped, slightly, tearing his eyes away from the offending berry to look at the _offended _berry, who had probably been calling his name for the last minute or two.

"What's the matter with you? You look about ready to jump out of your skin."

"I..." How was he supposed to explain it without sounding like an utter idiot? He was afraid the persimmon was going to jump off the desk and attack him? "It's nothing, sir."

"It's obviously something, Kira. Spit it out."

"I... can't."

With Gin, a refusal like that would have lead to a painful hour of mental games, until he finally surrendered whatever stupid, painful little secret he'd been hiding in the first place. The games had left raw spots like scabs on his soul, and he was in no mood to have them picked at.

Blessedly, Ichigo was nothing like Gin. The young man gazed at him with a measuring, considering look for a few seconds, then stood up with a sigh. "Come on."

Huh? "Come... where, sir?"

"You need to work off some of that tension before you snap. We're going to spar." Ichigo's voice was neutral, his eyes calm, but Kira felt the tension in his shoulders twist a little tighter.

"I swore... I swore I would never again raise Wabisuke against a fellow Shinigami." And he waited, more out of habit than anything, for the '_why_?,' knowing he would have to explain his shame at attacking his friends and -

"No problem. We can grab a couple of bokken or spar hand-to-hand, your choice."

Kira hesitated, staring up at Ichigo's amber-brown eyes, gazing at him with no cruelty, no deceit, just waiting for his response. It was so unfamiliar, so new, that he found his mouth working ahead of his mind, the way it hadn't done since he was still in the Academy.

"Hand to hand," he answered after a moment, not processing the words before they escaped. Ichigo nodded, glanced briefly behind himself to where Zangetsu leaned against the wall behind his desk, then waited politely for Kira to stand and walk out the door beside him.

* * *

Minutes later, the pair stood across from each other across a packed-dirt sparring circle, each one silently sizing up the other. Ichigo had removed his Captain's haori before entering the ring, draping it carefully over the low branch of a nearby tree. He looked younger without it; not surprising, given that he was still barely out of adolescence.

Kira narrowed his eyes, realizing for the first time how practiced Ichigo's stance was. He'd never considered that the boy had any formal training in hand-to-hand; although he'd heard about Ichigo taking out three Lieutenants with his bare hands the day he rescued Rukia, he'd chalked it up to hysterical exaggeration.

When you had a Zanpakutou the size of Zangetsu, did you really need hand-to-hand skills??

Drawing a deep breath, Kira bowed, knowing instinctively that Ichigo mirrored his move.

Inhale. Bow. Exhale.

_Attack_.

His sweeping kick went directly over Ichigo's head; the other had anticipated the movement, and Kira had to turn his momentum into a pivoting leap to avoid having his knee kicked out from behind. Letting his body arc backwards, he touched the ground with his hands and sprang away, just as Ichigo's fist cut through the air where his head had been seconds before.

Evidently, Ichigo was too smart to rely on just his Zanpakutou.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Ichigo's skin was slick with sweat, and his breath was coming hard. He and Kira had been sparring steadily for the entire time; Ichigo keeping his fighting style carefully controlled, pulling punches when they hit, angling for strikes on less painful parts of the body when he could.

Even so, Kira's visible eye was purpling at the edge from a miscalculated blow, and a thin trickle of blood had dried at the corner of his mouth. He'd caught Ichigo's elbow to the front of his right shoulder when they got close in a few minutes ago, and his punches with that arm weren't quite so free anymore.

Which wasn't to say Kira hadn't been giving just as good as he got. Ichigo's left side throbbed with a dull ache where the blond's foot had caught him, and one not-quite missed punch had split Ichigo's lips, leaving his mouth bloody and painful.

Dropping into a crouch on the other side of the ring, Kira glared at him, visible eye spitting blue fire. The earlier tension, that fear-tension that Unohana had warned him to watch for, had vanished; in its place was the tension of battle-ready muscles preparing their next dodge and strike.

"Stop it," Kira hissed at him suddenly, and Ichigo blinked at him in confusion.

"Stop... what?"

"I wouldn't have made Lieutenant if I was as fragile as I looked. I know you're pulling your punches, and I want you to stop." Kira adjusted his stance, agile body coiling in on itself - not in defense, but preparation for an attack. His voice was wild when he spoke again, boiling over with years of pent-up fear and anger. "_Stop holding back!_"

He attacked, and Ichigo couldn't do anything but obey.

* * *

It took a half an hour.

Half an hour of brutal, full-out fighting, fists and elbows and feet and knees flying, impacting flesh with no regard for the health of the target, striking to disable and to injure and to _hurt_, and both of them were broken and bleeding freely when Kira finally snapped. Letting out a scream of raw anguish, he stopped mid-charge and dropped to his knees in the center of the ring and pounded the dirt with one hand, cursing Aizen and Gin and Fate itself for what it had done to them all, and Ichigo dropped down to sit near him, waiting silently as Kira sobbed out the repressed agonies of the past decades.

"_Sometimes, what hurts the body heals the soul,_" Unohana had said to Ichigo, only hours after he'd received his rank. "_The pains of the past must be allowed to break free of the chains he has placed on them, so that he may finally break free of them._"

And she'd ordered - flat-out _ordered_! - Ichigo to do this, to drive Kira halfway to madness with that damn stupid persimmon, then drag him out here and beat on him until the pain and the blood and the heat of battle snapped his control and made him confront the pain that Gin had left him with.

And so Ichigo waited, sitting silently in the dirt an arm's length away, watching as his Lieutenant broke down, wishing there was something he could do to help.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Kira whispered finally, half an hour later. He was still on his knees in the middle of the dirt ring, broken right arm resting across his thighs. The furious tears had slowly given way to soft, broken sobs, and those had eventually petered off into shaking breaths broken only by the occasional hiccup.

Carefully pushing himself upright, he scrubbed the back of his good hand across his eyes. The action streaked dirt and blood across his pale skin, highlighting the tear-streaks marring his face.

Still sitting on the ground beside his Lieutenant, Ichigo simply shook his head. "Don't apologize, it needed to happen. Repressing that much crap can't be healthy, you know. C'mon," he added, clapping Kira gently on the uninjured shoulder and lurching to his feet, favoring his own injuries. "Let's go get cleaned up."

* * *

When they returned to the office an hour later, scrubbed clean and injuries healed - courtesy of Kira's own Fourth Division training - Kira paused beside Ichigo's desk, staring down at the pale orange fruit sitting there.

After a moment's consideration, he casually picked it up and bit into it.

Although he'd never liked the bitter, astringent taste of the persimmons his former captain had favored, he found this one deliciously sweet.


	14. The Shift

A/N: Gaaah. First off, an apology in advance. I managed to mildly sprain my wrist yesterday, and various events kept me from doing one of my three routine edits on the chapter; therefore, I apologize for any remaining mistakes or rough patches. Also, this isn't my favorite of all chapters; it's mostly plot-centered, though it's very far from boring. Hopefully you will enjoy it more than I have, XD.

Although I don't expect to hit 150 reviews with this chapter, I will go ahead and post my Request Guidelines in my Profile tonight; they're pretty simple, no character death, no bashing!fics, and nothing above PG-15 unless you want it to suck. (no pun intended) I'm simply not a smut author. Other than that, start thinking on your requests and keep counting reviews!

WARNINGS for this chapter include minor violence, some blood and angst, and language. Also, this is my longest chapter yet, by a margin of nearly 800 words.

Translator's Notes:

Akihiko: male name meaning 'Bright Prince.'

Fumio: male name meaning 'scholarly/literary child'

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Thirteen: The Shift

"...absolute _idiocy_!" Renji snarled, pacing back and forth before his desk and glaring furiously at the two Shinigami in front of him. Both had been officers for over a century, and neither had yet managed to rise into even the lowest of seated positions, a fact that had suggested they were either particularly weak or particularly stupid.

Sadly, this pair appeared to be both.

"You released your Shikai. Inside an_ occupied, unshielded common room_ in the Division barracks, endangering the lives of _twenty-six_ of your squad-mates, causing extensive damage to the building, giving me a hell of a lot of paperwork to excuse the mess you two made, and now Yamamoto's on my ass to have both of you thrown out of the ranks. So I want you to give me one _damn_ good reason I shouldn't have you both decommissioned for blatant incompetence, and _maybe_ you'll only spend time in confinement!"

Neither of them responded; the one on the left, a reed-thin, brown haired man a full head shorter than Renji, stared down at his own toes, as he'd been doing since the start of the interview, too ashamed to meet his Captain's eyes. The other, only inches shorter than Renji but running towards plump, with long blue-black hair and a pockmarked complexion, sniffed slightly, his expression disdainful.

Renji wheeled on the right-hand offender, glaring down at him. "You have something you would like to explain about the incident, Yahi?"

"No."

One tattooed eyebrow lifted. "No what, Yahi?"

"Just no." Narrow black eyes turned ceiling-ward, gazing over Renji's head.

The second eyebrow joined the first. "That's no way to address your Captain, Yahi."

"Fair enough, given that I don't consider you my Captain."

Hinamori, who had been lingering in a rear corner of the room, flinched, expecting Renji to explode. Certainly he would have been well enough within his rights to do so. She was surprised, therefore, when he merely rocked back a step, gazing down at the unseated officer before him with a thoughtful expression.

"And why is that, Yahi?"

The question clearly surprised him; Yahi blinked once before gathering himself and throwing his answer at his Captain.

"You're a child. You've been with the Gotei for barely half a century, so you have half the experience of many officers who were passed over to give you a promotion you don't deserve. The only reason you got your rank is because you tricked your way into Bankai and you're sleeping with Kuchiki."

Of all the responses Renji could have given that little outburst, the last one Momo would have expected was a bark of laughter. "All right," Renji snickered, walking back to his desk and leaning comfortably against the front edge, "I'll address the last issue first. I don't know which Kuchiki you're thinking of, but I can assure you, I'm not sleeping with any of them. Rukia and I grew up together; we're family. And Kuchiki-taichou might have a stick up his ass, but it sure as hell ain't mine."

"You _dare_ -" Yahi began, incensed, as Hozou and Momo choked. Renji ignored them all and continued speaking.

"As for my experience, yeah, I'm young. But I've handled missions to the Living World, the Valley of Screams, and Hueco Mundo. I've fought ranking Espada, not to mention Kuchiki-taichou and Kurosaki Ichigo, and obviously survived the experience. I was given commendations following the war for both valor and exceeding the call of duty. And although I may have achieved my Bankai in near-record time, I can assure you, there was no cheating involved."

"But you -"

"And if you're still so concerned about my ability to lead you, then I'd be happy to offer you a one-on-one demonstration of my strength."

Yahi paled and Hinamori gasped, the sound echoing in the suddenly silent room. Renji's expression was casual, a half-smile on his face as he leaned back, both hands resting along the edge of the desk, his long legs stretched out as he rested his weight against the glossy wood.

"T-that isn't - quite unnecessary, I assure -"

"No, Yahi, it's obviously very necessary. I figured there'd be some resentment over my promotion; you're just a good example of the attitudes I'll be facin' from a lot of older officers and the lesser nobility like yerself. So, we're gonna go outside, gather the squad together, and you can prove to me exactly why you're as superior as you think you are. A'right?"

His face white, Yahi could only nod in assent. "H-hai, sir."

* * *

Hisagi Shuuhei stepped out of his quarters before dawn that morning, still rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, and very nearly fell over the mostly inert form sprawled in front of his door.

"What the - who're you?"

The shinigami jerked awake, snapping off a salute, babbling apologies and explanations too fast for either to make much sense. Holding up a hand for silence, Shuuhei sighed faintly and dragged the other hand over his face in exasperation. So much for an easy start to the day.

"Start over. Name, rank, and company." The man looked vaguely familiar, a thin black mustache and a hangdog expression on his weathered face. He also looked like he'd spent half his life drowning in a sake bottle... and frankly, smelled that way, too.

"Aramaki Makizou, Tenth seat, Zaraki squad," came the immediate answer, and Shuuhei nodded in recognition. Now, he remembered where he'd seen him; lingering on the fringe's of Yumichika's fight yesterday. Not typical of the Eleventh; he'd been standing at the end of it, which meant he hadn't participated - the only one of the fighters left standing had been Yumichika himself.

"Ayasegawa's not up yet, but if you want to wait for him, you can do so in the office," he offered, mind already moving ahead, tallying his schedule for the day.

"Thank you, Hisagi-taichou, but I'm actually not here to see Ayasegawa-san. I was hoping to speak to you?"

That took Hisagi back for a second; what could an Eleventher want with him? "...regarding...?"

Makizou still hadn't risen off his knees, and now he dropped into a low bow, his forehead pressing into the polished wooden floor. "Hisagi-taichou, I would like to request a transfer to your division!"

Shuuhei blinked once, watching as his neatly planned schedule for the day went sailing out the proverbial window. Why did he suddenly have the feeling that this was going to be a _very_ long morning?

* * *

"Renji-san, is this... really necessary?" Hinamori's terrified whisper was barely audible, even though she was walking directly at his shoulder. Glancing down at her, Renji stifled a sigh at her shock-white face. The threat of violence in her division - even controlled violence - was scaring her breathless.

It was understandable, but sad. She'd been so strong, back in the Academy; stupidly brave, the first of the three of them to go charging back, trying to fight off a Hollow a hundred times their size to save Hisagi. Seeing her reduced to this - a trembling wreck because of the imminent duel, but standing in her place at his side anyway - was enough to make him want to cry. Stupid, brave, scared little girl.

"It's necessary, Momo. I'm sorry I have to do it, but I don't have much choice. I never asked to be Captain, and I wasn't expecting it, but I can't let my officers run roughshod over me. I need their respect if this is going to work."

Stepping down from the porch, he wound his way through the assembled division, Momo, Yahi, and Hozou, the other offending officer, trailing in his wake.

From behind him, Hinamori could see so clearly how much her old friend had changed. Renji wouldn't have noticed or realized; he couldn't see himself the way others did - but it was truly astonishing, how much he had grown.

She remembered the first time she'd met him in the Academy, how surprised she'd been by that shock of brilliant red hair and the boisterous attitude. He'd been overwhelming, uncontrolled, _wild_.

That had changed; no longer was he a feral animal, hungry and wary. He was still a predator, true, but confidant, assured of his own strength. It was clear in the way he moved, the carriage of his head and the set of his shoulders. The billowing white haori only served to make that shock of vermillion hair more noticeable, and, combined the deep-green scarf rippling across his shoulders, gave him an air of majesty that she'd only seen before in the most deadly-powerful of the Gotei Captains. Although it pained her to admit it, even Aizen-taichou had never managed to acquire that sweeping dignity.

It struck her, abruptly enough that she had to squash a sudden shiver, how much he reminded her of Kuchiki-taichou in that moment.

* * *

When they reached the far training ground, Renji slowly unwound the scarf from his shoulders, carefully folding it before turning to Momo and pressing it gently into her hands.

"Take care of that for me, okay? It was a gift from someone important; I don't want it to get damaged."

Unable to muster her voice, she nodded silently and slipped the fabric into the front of her kosode, arranging it so that it lay flat against her side between the layers of her uniform, wondering at the silky texture as she withdrew her trembling hand.

"A'right, everyone, gather around!" Renji barked, and the milling crowd obediently drew close, forming a loose half-circle across one side of the training grounds. Long experience and common sense had taught the Shinigami to never completely surround a pair of fighters - dodged and missed attacks had to go somewhere, and if the arena was completely ringed by spectators, well...

"Unseated officer Yahi was brought to my office early this morning due to an incident involving released Shikai inside one of the squad buildings," Renji explained calmly, his rough voice carrying easily, even to the farthest reaches of the waiting group.

"When he was brought to my office to face disciplinary measures, he expressed his views on my Captaincy to me in no uncertain terms. Just so that we're all on the same page, Yahi, I'd like you to repeat for our squadmates what you told me earlier."

With a sinking heart, Yahi squared his shoulders and repeated his complaints, keeping his voice level and steady. As he spoke, it grew more and more obvious that very few of the squad shared his opinions; the mutters and hisses grew to outright shouts as he trailed off. He hadn't repeated the last of his opinions - that Abarai had been sleeping with one of the Kuchiki in order to gain his position.

Noticing the omission, Renji quirked an eyebrow at the man, and Yahi cringed slightly, shaking his head. _Please don't make me repeat it._

Raising his other eyebrow, Renji shrugged one shoulder in response. _Fine. Doesn't matter._

"In order to address Yahi's questions, I reminded him of my extensive mission experience throughout the Three Realms as well as my service commendations, and assured him that there's no way ya can cheat your way to Bankai. To make sure he's got no farther questions, we're goin' to have a light sparring match. Anyone who'd like to spar with me after him is welcome to do so."

Turning back to face his pale-faced opponent, Renji drew Zabimaru and raised it in a shallow salute. Trembling, Yahi drew his own blade and returned the gesture.

'_Kazedai_,' Zabimaru's deep voice growled, vibrating up through Renji's mind.

'_Great Wind_?' Renji echoed skeptically, dividing his attention between his blade and his opponent's, waiting for an attack. '_You know him_?'

'_Hai. He's much like his wielder; arrogant and ineffective. His ability is a wind-based shuriken-style attack.'_

'_Very dangerous?'_

'_It would be if that pompous rat knew how to use it,' _came the sibilant retort of Zabimaru's tail, and Renji stifled the urge to laugh.

'_All right, then. Let's get 'em, Zabimaru!' _Without bothering to release his shikai, he leapt forward, swinging an easy blow towards Yahi's chest. The man blocked quickly enough, but the force behind the blow - no more than a fraction of Renji's strength - was enough to bend Yahi's arms back until the back of Kazedai's blade was nearly resting against his shoulder.

Sighing, Renji took a half-step back, pivoted and swung, striking at an upwards angle, catching the blade just over the hilt. Kazedai spun away into the dirt, and several of the watching officers shook their heads in disgust at Yahi's incompetence.

"Disarm," Renji announced dispassionately, leveling the point of his blade at Yahi's throat. "Kill. You're dead, Yahi. Now, retrieve your blade and let's try this again."

Grimacing, the man did so, taking up his position. They exchanged salutes again, and Yahi jumped forward this time, trying to bring a strike down on Renji's shoulder. It was blocked with a casual, almost lazy movement, and Yahi backed off, only to come back, cutting at Renji's ankles a split-second later. That attack was leaped over, and Renji smacked the flat of Zabimaru's blade against the back of Yahi's neck on his way back down.

"Kill. Dead again, Yahi. Position!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Renji had actually worked up a sweat. On his orders, Yahi had released his shikai after Renji had 'killed' him for the fifth time, and it was actually making things a little more difficult. Kazedai's blade separated into four shuriken, each about the size of Renji's spread hand. Much like Senbonzakura, the separate pieces were directed either mentally or with hand movements.

However, Yahi had a distinct disadvantage - he had to direct each of the four blades simultaneously, and he wasn't in close enough concert with his Zanpakutou that it was willing, or able, to help him. And Yahi, as it turned out, could not divide his attention in four directions at once and still fight his opponent effectively, if at all.

So really, it boiled down to Renji dodging or deflecting attacks from one or two of the blades at most, while the others simply buzzed around pointlessly. Even with Yahi's shikai released, Renji had 'killed' the man three more times within the last ten minutes.

A fast flashstep put him behind Yahi, twisting Zabimaru in his hands so that he could use a Senka strike with the flat of the blade - this was a training exercise, and while Renji was bleeding freely from the few strikes Yahi had managed to get in, he'd limited his own blows to bruising ones.

But everyone in the Gotei knew Kuchiki Byakuya's favorite attack, whether or not their eyes could follow it.

Everyone in the Gotei knew that Renji had picked up a lot of his former Captain's habits.

Yahi was turning even as Renji began to swing, one hand sweeping to summon one of Kazedai's blades to strike Renji from behind -

- except Renji had been fighting him long enough to know that was exactly what Yahi would do. And he flashed away again, reappearing to Yahi's side, not realizing he was doing so too fast for the man to alter the course of his hurtling blade.

The dull, wet thunk seemed impossibly loud on a training ground gone suddenly silent, an abrupt change from the cheers and whoops of a split-second before.

A wet cough brought a gout of blood from between slack, stunned lips.

One of the spectating Shinigami screamed, and Renji felt a curse fall from his mouth. Dropping Zabimaru - the nue was too shocked to even think of objecting - he wrapped his arms around the limp form of Yahi Akihiko as the other man fell, the blade of his own Zanpakutou lodged in his throat.

"_Fuck_," Renji said with feeling, then, "Hinamori! Healing kidou, now! Zadi, contact the Fourth, tell them I'll be bringing in a critical injury!" Tearing off the sleeve of his shihakusho, Renji pressed it down, carefully, on either side of the embedded blade, trying to slow the bleeding even as Momo dropped to her knees beside him, her shaking hands glowing green.

Most higher-level Shinigami couldn't be injured by their own Zanpakutou, but that was a matter due entirely to their relationship with their blades. Hisagi, for instance, had almost cut his own arms off more than once, learning to control Kazeshini's wild flight paths.

Lower-ranked Shinigami, or those with little rapport with their blades, would be injured by their own weapons just as easily as anyone else's. It was a sobering thought, but nowhere near as sobering as the reality of his officer's blood coating his hands.

* * *

"Shit, Renji, what happened to you?"

"Blood's not mine," Renji sighed, not for the first time. When Ikkaku stared at him, incredulous, he belatedly recalled that yes, in fact, some of the blood _was_ his, coming from the deep slash on his upper arm and the two across his chest, neither of which had stopped seeping yet. He'd been refusing the attentions of the officers of the Fourth, wanting to make sure Yahi was all right first.

"One of my men was injured in training," Renji explained, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to erase the memory. "With his own fucking Zanpakutou, the idiot. Right in his fucking neck."

"He alive?"

Renji's lips tightened, and he glanced towards the door of the operating ward, where they could feel Unohana-taichou's formidable reiatsu approaching. Slipping silently through the swinging doors, the woman's deep-blue eyes fixed upon Renji just long enough to offer him a faint smile and a nod before disappearing back inside.

Exhaling a sigh of sheer relief, Renji slumped down in the uncomfortable chair. "He's alive." A few minutes of silence went by before he thought to ask, "What about you? Why're you here?"

Ikkaku snorted in response. "Idiot newbies. Some punk two months outta the Academy thought he'd challenge me fer Third seat. Guess he thought I'd be off my game 'cuz Yumi took off." The feral grin spreading across Ikkaku's face suggested that that was anything but the case.

"He alive?"

"They're reattachin' his arm now. Kid was decent - might recommend him fer Yumi's seat, actually."

The door to the operating bay squeaked open, and both men glanced up as Kotetsu Isane stuck her head out, looking nervous.

"Ah, Abarai-taichou? You can see him now," she offered quietly, and Ikkaku gave a bark of laughter.

"Abarai-taichou. Ain't never gonna get used to that."

"Shut up, Ikkaku," Renji advised, smacking the man on the back of his head as he stood to follow Isane.

* * *

Yahi looked pale, even against the white pillows of the Fourth. When Renji sat down in the chair beside his bed, one eye slitted open, glassy from the painkillers in his system. It took him a half a heartbeat to identify his visitor, at which point he immediately attempted to sit up, struggling to do so and salute at the same time. "Sir, I -"

"Lie down, ya moron. You just lost half the blood in yer body."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Yahi managed, letting his body drop back onto the pillows. "I was out of line this morning. If you chose to strip me of my commission, I will understand -"

"Shut up, Yahi."

"Yes, sir."

Leveling a steady gaze at the man, Renji considered his words for a moment before speaking. "What happened earlier shouldn't have."

"No, sir. I was completely -"

"Didn't I tell you to shaddup?"

Yahi squeaked and fell silent. Sighing, Renji continued.

"I was referrin' to you gettin' injured by yer own Zanpakutou. That's a damn rookie mistake an' you know it. And when ya get back to the Squad, yer gonna train until you can control all four'a those damn blades without even _thinkin_' about it, you understand? Ain't nothin' keeping you from bein' damn good with your shikai except laziness, Yahi. An' that is the one thing I don't tolerate, got me?"

The man stared back at him for a moment, utter shock written across his face, before a slow grin curled the corner of his mouth. "Yes sir. Thank you... Abarai-taichou."

Snorting, Renji swung out of his chair and headed for the door. "Don't thank me yet, Yahi. I'm gonna beat trainin' into ya 'till you turn into an officer to be proud of."

Watching him leave, Yahi let the unfamiliar feeling of a smile linger on his face. He'd spent so long as a mediocre everything, surrendering any hope of becoming remarkable. Everything about him, from his appearance to his Division, was so obscenely ordinary that they faded into the background.

Until Aizen, the most politely forgettable Captain in the history of the Seireitei, had left them in a wash of blood and shattered dreams, and then Yahi and his entire Division had become less than nothing, going from ordinary and reliable to broken and useless in a span of moments. They'd lost everything that defined them; their confidence, their hope, their strength, their pride.

But now, finally, it looked like someone was bringing it back.

Closing his eyes, Yahi fell into a peaceful sleep for the first time since the night of the defection.

* * *

Shuuhei was getting a migraine, and it wasn't even ten o'clock. He was sitting behind his desk, staring at the seven men sprawled in various abuses of proper positions across the floor of his office, impatiently awaiting his judgement.

Four of them were unseated officers. However, the other three were seventh, tenth, and fifteenth seats, respectively - and all seven of them were from Zaraki's squad.

And all seven of them wanted to transfer to the Ninth.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he glanced over to where Yumichika was diligently doing paperwork on the far side of the office, pointedly ignoring the men sprawled across the floor.

"Ayasegawa!" Shuuhei barked, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. Violet eyes snapped up to meet his, and the glitter of mirth was clear in their depths.

"Yes, Hisagi-taichou?"

"Opinions on the transfer requests? You've worked with these men; I haven't."

"Mmm..." Yumichika eyed the loose cluster of men for a moment, then, much to Shuuhei's astonishment, proceeded to rattle off the entire history, battle experience, training regime, fighting style, and Zanpakutou abilities off all seven, going back to the grades and placements each of them had received in the Academy.

Baradi was secretly a kidou specialist but couldn't write reports to save his life, Nihunai specialized in taking on multiple opponents in combat, Adoshuma's shikai release turned his sword into a long chain with spikes attached, which he was proficient in using, and so on until Shuuhei thought he would have to scrape his jaw off the desk.

"...so I'd recommend testing Baradi, Aramaki, Hishou, and Sakidoba for the eighth, tenth, fourteenth and nineteenth seats respectively, and placing Nihunai, Adoshuma, and Fai in unseated positions and allowing them to work their way through the ranks as they so desire, on the condition that they understand officers of the Ninth don't kill each other in duels of succession. Does that sound reasonable, Captain?"

Belatedly, Shuuhei snapped his mouth shut, running the information backwards and forwards again in his mind. He did have far too many empty spaces in his seated ranks; the four that Yumichika had recommended would help to fill them out, and there was nobody in his squad that he felt ready to take the positions in question.

However, bringing in _one_ oddball officer from the Eleventh that he'd trained with, however sporadically, for the past two years, was a very different situation than accepting seven completely unknown entities into his already-fractured Division. The last thing he needed was a pack of stereotypical Eleventhers terrorizing his people. On the other hand, they were trained and experienced officers, and that was something he desperately needed. Fresh Academy graduates were all well and good, but there weren't any prodigies handy this year that might have filled the empty seats in his ranks.

So... compromise.

"I'll put the seven of you on a one-week probationary period within my Squad to ensure there are no problems with integration. If I'm satisfied that you can fit comfortably with the rest of my officers, I'll test you in at the end of that time. Accepted?"

"Yes, sir!" barked seven voices, and Shuuhei turned his bemused gaze to Yumichika as they filed out.

"Where you expecting them, Ayasegawa-fukutaichou?" Shuuhei asked quietly, once the clumping footsteps had faded out.

"Not at all, Hisagi-taichou!" Yumichika fluttered in reply, and the astonishment in his voice was enough that Hisagi believed him. Which meant that members of the Eleventh were defecting - by Zaraki's standards at least - on nothing more than hope. Hell of a risk to take; if Hisagi had turned down their applications, they'd have been thrown to the wolves back in the Eleventh.

A thought flickered it's way through Shuuhei's mind, and he let a snort of laughter escape him. "Still, if we've dragged seven of your old teammates away from the most block-headedly loyal division in the Gotei, can you imagine how many are going to be turning up on Renji's steps? Kuchiki won't have a Division _left_ by the time all the transfer requests are filed."

* * *

The dull thud of Ichigo's head impacting the surface of his desk jerked Kira's attention away from the paperwork he's been focused on. Bemused, he blinked at his young Captain, raising his eyebrows when Ichigo lifted his head an inch, only to drop it back again.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"...fuck," came the inelegant grumble, and Ichigo picked his head up enough to look across the office to Kira. "No, I'm not all right. It's this... _thing_ with Rukia."

"You're having second thoughts about your engagement?"

"I had second thoughts as soon as I started thinking about it," Ichigo answered, mouth twisting sourly. "I think I've passed hundredth thoughts by now."

"It is a very... unconventional arrangement," Kira answered slowly, drying his brush and setting it and the papers he'd completed aside. "In all honesty, I'm not certain why the Clan elders agreed to the match at all, although I do have an idea..."

Sharp brown eyes narrowed at him. "What do you mean, Kira?"

"Ah..." Kira paused, frowning uneasily at the top of his desk. "You are aware, sir, that I come from a minor noble family?"

Ichigo shook his head, wordlessly - the history of someone's blood never mattered to him - and gestured for Kira to continue.

"Well, marriages among the nobility here aren't anything like marriages in the Living World," Kira began, shifting his hands restlessly on his desk. There was a splotch of ink on one of his fingertips, he noticed with a sigh. Licking the black blot, he pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and attempted to scrub the stain from his skin.

"Ordinarily, if Rukia-san was a blood daughter of the Clan, a husband would be selected for her by the Clan Council from among a pool of candidates that had put themselves forward or been put forward by their parents. They would all offer something to the Kuchiki clan by their marriage; if it was a scion of another noble family, it's usually something like alliance, wealth, lands, or martial services. If it's someone from within the Clan, often a distant cousin, they would be selected with an eye towards breeding powerful children in the interest of continuing the Clan's bloodlines. They would be married, and he would receive Rukia-san as a wife, as well as a substantial dowery, and in many cases a good deal of influence in the matters of the Kuchiki clan."

"That's appalling," Ichigo muttered, more to himself than Kira. "It's worse than prostitution. Wouldn't she have any choice in the process?"

"Not necessarily, no. As Kuchiki-taichou's sister, she might have been able to demand some leeway, but it rather depends on what mood she managed to catch him in."

"All right," Ichigo scowled, thumping the side of his hand against the top of his desk in an absentminded rhythm. "Not that I'm complaining, but why didn't they do that with Rukia?"

"Ah..." Grimacing, Kira reshuffled his papers briefly, licked the inkspot on his finger again, and rubbed it against the leg of his hakama, where the black ink wouldn't show. "Several reasons, sir. For one, as an adopted non-noble, Rukia-san is not technically part of the line of Clan succession, so any children she bore would have to be formally adopted into the Clan before being considered heirs. Moreover, there are certain... expectations of behavior for a nobleman's wife that I'm not certain Rukia-san necessarily holds to."

Ichigo confined his reaction to that by merely raising an eyebrow; however, the sardonic expression on his face was quite enough. Taking the wordless prompt, Kira bit back a sigh and continued.

"The wife of a noble is expected to be eternally obedient to her husband in every respect." At Ichigo's bark of laughter, he allowed himself a very small smile. "For the, ah, well-known traits of Rukia-san's disposition, along with her lack of actual noble blood, I imagine there were very few marriage offers actually being put forward. But there's also..." Frowning, Kira moved both his hands back to the top of the desk and twisted his fingers together. "I really... should not be aware of what I'm about to tell you," he said slowly. "I played with one of Kuchiki-taichou's younger cousins, Kuchiki Fumio, when I was a child, and we still speak occasionally. He's one of the archivists for the Clan, responsible for recording the family tree."

"I'm listening," Ichigo said slowly, his eyes intent on his subordinate, and Kira fought the urge to squirm under the stern regard.

"The nobility of the Soul Society have always produced the most powerful Shinigami; in fact, it's generally accepted that only those with high reiatsu, or at least the capacity for high reiatsu, are able to bear and birth children. That's why the nobility are able to propagate when other souls simply cycle between the worlds. Within the last century, though, there's been an increase in the number of Rukongai citizens not only displaying power and potential, but graduating the Academy and attaining high positions."

Ichigo nodded, slowly. He wasn't entirely certain yet where this lecture was leading, but he had a feeling that it was something that he desperately needed to know.

"The simple fact that the Rukongai citizens are infiltrating the ranks of the Gotei is making the nobility uncomfortable enough," Kira explained, the words bitter on his tongue. "However, there's a deeper issue as well." Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the top of his desk, Kira exhaled the secret that Fumio-san had imparted to him. Even now, years later, he could recall the fear in those pewter Kuchiki eyes.

"There have been fewer children born to the Kuchiki clan in the last century than any century from the beginning of their history," he said, voice just above a whisper, and Ichigo exhaled a breath through clenched teeth with a hiss.

"They're weakening."

"Yes, I believe so."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Ichigo mumbled after a moment, and Kira nodded faintly.

"Hisana-san did not have the capacity to bear children; whether that was due to her illness or a simple lack of power, we will never know. However, now that Byakuya-san has sworn never to remarry, the chances of the Kuchiki clan bearing children in this generation -"

"Are now dependent on me and Rukia," Ichigo supplied with a groan. "That's why the elders supported Rukia's engagement to me, isn't it? Because of my crazy reiatsu, they think I'll be able to sire kids?"

"Presumably, yes. There are a few cousins of marriageable age, but most of them don't have reiatsu levels that would suggest the ability to conceive healthy offspring."

"Oh, fuck," Ichigo muttered, and thunked his head against the desk again.


	15. Fractures

A/N: Hey, all! Thanks to everyone for the awesome response on the last chapter, and congratulations to Whitecloud1, who nabbed the 150th-review kiriban. I've already started drafting her story, and I'm having so much fun with it, I think I'm going to have to do another kiriban down the road. Keep your eyes open for another announcement!

Also, reviewers, please don't be offended if I do not immediately respond to your comments as per my usual habit; I'm going out of town Thursday and Friday. And Thursday night, I will be rocking out to none other than BON JOVI, live in concert!! I am ecstatic, :-D.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Fourteen: Fractures

"Welcome back, Abarai-taichou."

Barely slowing his stride towards his Division's gates, Renji acknowledged the greeting of his gate-guard with a terse nod. The deft touch of Hanatarou's healing - and a good amount of hot soapy water - had left him feeling much more himself, but he was in desperate need of a change of clothes. His kosode was stiff with dried blood and miserably itchy. That aside, he felt far better now than he had a few hours ago, Flashstepping frantically to the Fourth Division with Yahi's unconscious, blood-soaked body in his arms.

He might have continued past the guard without a word, but the worry in the man's eyes drew him to a halt just before the gate. "Thanks, Hashou," he answered, carefully keeping his voice steady. "Can ya let the rest of the Division know that Yahi's makin' a full recovery, and he'll be back with us in a couple a' days?"

Surprise, followed almost instantly by relief, flashed across Hashou's face. "Sure thing, sir!" His departure was the fastest Renji had ever seen someone move without the mastery of Shunpo; but then again, it wasn't surprising he'd be in a hurry. He'd had far too few good tidings to spread over the last two years.

The other gate guard spoke up before Renji could resume his walk into the barracks. "Abarai-taichou, there are several officers from the Sixth Division here to speak to you; I had them escorted to your office to await your return."

_Officers from the Sixth?_ Renji echoed mentally, trying and failing to remember any sort of appointment he'd had with his old squad-mates that would warrant them invading his barracks.

"Right, thanks. I'll deal with 'em."

Apparently, the clean uniform would have to wait.

* * *

The clean uniform would _definitely_ have to wait. When he rounded the corner of the building and saw the veranda outside his office, he stopped short in astonishment. No fewer than twenty-five Shinigami, all of whom he recognized from the Sixth - and eight of them seated officers! - were waiting for him.

Sitting in the middle of the group, perched on a small, rather worn travel trunk and looking remarkably embarrassed by the entire affair, was Rikichi.

"Ohayou, Renji-sa - ah, Abarai-taichou," the young Shinigami grinned sheepishly, jerking the hand he's been waving down to rub the back of his neck.

"Mornin', Rikichi," Renji answered, regarding the rest of the group with narrowed eyes. "This your going-away party?"

"Ah, not quite, sir."

"Transfer application party," corrected Byakuya's Seventh seat with a broad grin, retrieving a bundle of paperwork from inside his kosode. Looking smug, he plopped the documents down on the edge of Rikichi's trunk, next to the boy's leg. Several other members of the little party followed suit.

"Wha - _all_ of you?!"

"Kuchiki-taichou put a transfer freeze on after twenty-five, so we're it for the moment," piped up one of the unseateds, adding her papers to the growing pile.

_For the moment??_ Renji thought, feeling slightly dizzy. "How many more wanted to transfer?"

"About eighty, total? A lot of junior officers put in."

"_Eighty_?" Renji echoed, his voice a strangled squawk. "How's Kuchiki-taichou taking that?"

"Oh, pitching a noble fit," the Seventh-seat answered, looking amused. "He actually raised his voice when he informed us he was freezing transfers. He hasn't done that since that little _incident_ in the courtyard a month ago."

A few snickers ran around the assembled group, and Renji took a deep breath, shoving his racing thoughts into order by sheer force of will. Putting emotion aside, he straightened his shoulders and shook his head at them. "I'm flattered that you all wanna follow me, guys. But I ain't gonna strip Kuchiki-taichou of all his personnel. Leave your transfer applications with me for review an' I'll get back to you within a day or two."

The wave of snickering stopped abruptly, replaced with expressions of surprise. Clearly, none of the group had expected Renji to hesitate in accepting them. Rikichi, still perched on his trunk, hid a faint smile behind his hand; he alone of the group already had his approval to transfer.

"And those of you hoping to transfer because you think I'll be an easier Captain than Kuchiki-taichou, you might as well tear those papers up now," Renji continued, his voice sharpening as he spoke. "I just got back from the Fourth Division, because I put one of my men in the hospital during training."

Biting the inside of his cheek to keep his anger in check, he continued ruthlessly, "I don't tolerate laggards or shirkers. I'm going to push this Division ruthlessly, until we're as good as or better than the Sixth, and we've got a hell of a lot of progress to make. So if you'd like to come and help, then by all means. But if you're just looking for a transfer because you think I'll be a soft touch on an old teammate, forget it. Abarai-fukutaichou is gone; I'm the Captain of the Fifth Division now."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Renji pushed the door of his office closed with an exasperated sigh. Much as he'd expected, half of the transfer-request party - lead by the Seventh seat - had vanished once he'd made his views on the matter clear, leaving the shreds of their dignity and applications behind. The other half, however, had been more adamant than ever that they join his ranks.

The bundle of papers under his arm seemed ridiculously heavy - he was still carrying the applications of thirteen officers of the Sixth who hoped to make their place within the Fifth Division. Dropping the stack carefully onto his desk, Renji pressed his hands against the cool wood on either side of the papers, letting his head hang for a long moment as he tried to gather his thoughts.

The richly green fabric of his scarf stood out plainly against the polished wood of the desk, laid out neatly beside the waiting stacks of paperwork. Staring at it, Renji felt a wave of guilt twist through his stomach. Byakuya had spoken for his promotion, given him that outrageously expensive scarf - not to mention the desk Renji was currently leaning on - and this was how he was repaid? By half his Division abandoning him at the first chance they got?

Even if half of the applying officers from the Sixth _did_ rescind their requests for transfer when they heard that Renji had no intention of being nice to them, that still left him with forty or more potential transfers, leaving Byakuya's Division for his. It wouldn't put the Sixth below acceptable levels - they always seemed to have a surplus of officers - and the Fifth was the most seriously understaffed of all three victimized Divisions. Even with that to his advantage, though, this was going to be a delicate balancing act on multiple levels. Not only would he have to make sure both Divisions retained an acceptable number of officers, but he also needed to place the transfers carefully enough that he didn't wind up irreparably offending his own people in the process.

"Hey, Momo, could you grab me the list of open positions, please?" he asked softly, not raising his head.

There was a moment of silence, and he finally raised his head to look at her, confusion twisting his brow when he saw her huddling into her seat, clenching her hands against her chest, body trembling.

"Somethin' wrong, Momo?" he asked, cautiously. Even now, emotionally exhausted to the point of collapse, he knew something was going very wrong with his friend.

"They still... after what you did..." the words came out little more than a whisper, voice jerky with shuddering breaths. "...people still want... to come to you. I don't understand... you acted so harshly, and they still want to come..."

Her hands were shaking, almost violently, and he saw the glassy expression in her eyes as she snapped her head to glare at him. "You hurt your own officer, and people are still coming to you! It's not _right_!"

"Yahi hurt himself, Momo," Renji answered, sighing. He'd been expecting an outburst like this for a while now, but that didn't make hearing her accusations any easier. "He made an incompetent mistake and was injured because of it. He'll recover."

"But you tried to hurt him, you hurt him because he insulted you!"

Controlling his irritation only by extreme force of will, Renji shook his head at her. "No. That's not who I am, Momo."

"You tried - you tried to kill him!"

Those words, those frantic, tear-streaked, hysterical words, were the last straw. The entire morning had been bearing down on Renji with an agonizing weight; defending a position he wasn't certain he deserved, witnessing again just how far down Aizen had driven good men, nearly losing one of them to incompetence, and then coming back to find his old teammates looking for an easy way out - something Renji had never had in his _life,_ and certainly didn't intend to give others. And now, he was losing one of his oldest friends to the irrational terrors of her own past.

"Hinamori, get it through your head; _I am not Aizen_! _ I don't try to murder my subordinates!"_

It was wrong, he knew it even as the words left his mouth. He watched as they struck home, Momo staggering backwards as though they'd physically hit her, tear-streaked face draining of all color.

"Shit, Momo, I'm sorry -" he began, reaching towards her with one hand, but she was gone in a burst of shunpo, her reiatsu leaving the taste of tears and anger in the air.

"Fuck," Renji muttered feelingly, dropping down into his chair. Following her now would only make things worse, he knew that. The last thing he needed to do was drive her to the point where she snapped completely. "_Fuck_!" Dropping his head onto the desk, he let his forehead thunk against the wood a few times, swearing softly with each impact.

"Augh!" Sitting up, he threw his head back and laced his fingers into his hair in frustration. "_I didn't ask for this!!!_"

"Ahem."

Biting back an instinctive urge to yelp, Renji bolted upright in his seat as he swiveled to look at the slim figure standing in his doorway, garbed in a simple navy blue yukata that was the uniform of servants of the Kuchiki house. "Riko! Ah... how long have you been there?"

Riko offered him a delicate, Unohana-like smile and a neat, respectful bow. "Good afternoon, Abarai-taichou."

Renji sighed and dropped his forehead against the desk again. "You saw all of that, didn't you?"

Riko didn't reply - which meant, of course, that she had - instead stepping delicately into the room to take a seat in front of Renji's desk.

"Byakuya-sama wishes to extend to you an invitation to join him for an evening meal at the Kuchiki mansion tonight."

"Lemme guess - wants to yell at me for stealin' his subordinates?" Renji asked wryly, and Riko smiled softly in response.

Although her graceful deportment would never suggest it, Riko was just as much a Rukongai brat as Renji was. Not from Inuzuri, of course; she'd come out of District 3 - but still. She was one of the few servants that didn't turn their elegant little noses up at Renji when he was at the Mansion; rather the contrary, she attended him with a friendly politeness that made the disdainful arrogance of the other servants that much more apparent.

"Not at all, Abarai-taichou. Kurosaki-taichou and Rukia-sama will be attending the dinner as well, and I believe Byakuya-sama wishes you there to help... facilitate discussion."

It took Renji a moment to work through the overly polite phrasing, but when he did, he let out a bark of laughter, feeling a few of the knots of tension in his stomach dissolve. If Kuchiki-taichou wasn't furious about the mass defection of his officers, that was at least one major worry off Renji's shoulders. "Y'mean, I help give the 'big-brother lecture' to Ichigo now that he'n Rukia are engaged?"

"I believe that is the intent, yes."

"Aa, be pretty hypocritical of Kuchiki-taichou to give it himself, so I guess it's on me, then," Renji grinned weakly. "I'll wouldn't miss it for the world."

Smiling in response, Riko rose from her seat and bowed. "I will inform Byakuya-sama of your acceptance, Abarai-taichou." Gliding out of the room, she stopped just outside of the door and glanced back. "Abarai-taichou?"

"Hm?"

"You may wish to examine your current wardrobe," she said dryly, and was gone.

It took Renji a good three minutes of self-inspection to realize that he'd been beating his head against a smudge of powdered ink he'd spilled on his desk, and that the entire front of the formerly white bandana covering his forehead was now quite as black as the tattoos it covered.

"_Fuck_!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Renji drew a deep breath to steel himself and tapped carefully on the wooden doorframe.

"Enter," called the low, familiar voice from within, and Renji slipped into the cool office with a grimace. He'd been half-hoping the other Captain wouldn't be in, but that would only be delaying the inevitable. This would have to be dealt with, and the sooner the better; things like this festered if left alone.

"Sir, I -" stopping two steps into the room, Renji blinked, staring around in perplexity.

"Over here, Abarai," came the amused drawl, and one pale hand waved over the back of the couch.

Bemused, Renji strode around the oversized piece of furniture, glancing down with no small amusement at Hitsugaya Toushirou. The normally intimidating young Captain was sprawled across the length of the couch, one leg bent at the knee to prop up what was either a short novel or an incredibly long report. One hand was tucked behind his head, while the other rested firmly on the pages to mark his place.

Striking teal-blue eyes flickered up towards Renji as the new Captain moved forward. "Nice hair, Abarai."

Feeling sheepish, Renji smoothed one hand over his head. His ink-stained bandana had been abandoned back in his office, and he'd inadvertently broken his hair tie in half yanking the white cloth off earlier. Forced to improvise, he'd finally swept the top section of his hair back and fastened it in a narrow braid, leaving the rest to fall free across his shoulders. He'd only just managed to tie off the end of the braid with the remains of his hair tie, and although the style was more comfortable than his usual tight ponytail, it still felt odd to wear his hair down.

"What is it you needed, exactly?" Hitsugaya asked, sounding amused as Renji smoothed his hair again, self-conscious, and fiddled with the wrap of his scarf.

"Ah..." Awkwardly shifting his weight, Renji finally dropped to his knees on the floor, bowing his head. "I fucked up, sir. I said... I yelled somethin' at Hinamori that I should never have said. She's taken off, I don't know where she's gone, and I don't want her to get hurt 'cause I was too stupid to keep my mouth shut -"

"I'm already aware of what was said between you, Abarai. And while I can't say that was the best way to handle the situation, Momo needed to hear it. She's in District 1 West, and she's fine, if upset," Hitsugaya interrupted, idly turning a page.

"You... she... what? How do you -"

Silently, Hitsugaya jerked a thumb towards his desk. Glancing towards it, Renji wasn't surprised to see Hyorinmaru resting on the immaculate surface. Hitsugaya's rapport with his Zanpakutou was legendary; he'd been speaking to the spirit long before he'd ever realized his potential to be a Shinigami, so perhaps it wasn't so surprising that he would speak to it on simpler matters, like keeping track of a wayward friend.

As if in response to Renji's thoughts, the steady hum of reiatsu in the room shifted, and just for a moment, Renji felt the weight of that massive, ice-and-wintergreen scented energy turn towards him. Zabimaru's own energy rose in response, tendrils of feral red heat curling up to meet the frigid calm of the other Zanpakutou.

The weight of Hyorinmaru's reiatsu rested on Renji for a moment, and he swore he could feel the enormous presence of the ice dragon looming over him, making it impossible to breathe -

And then the presence retreated, the energy in the room falling back into a a low hum. Renji fell backwards in surprise, catching himself on his hands as he drew a shuddering breath.

"Shit, Hitsugaya," he gasped, feeling Zabimaru shiver within him. "How do you handle it?"

Hitsugaya finally looked up from the report, locking Renji's gaze with his own. The faint smile lingering on his mouth was weary and just a little sad. "Hyorinmaru has been with me since I was very young, Abarai. I've become accustomed to the weight of his presence over time." There was a pause, and the smile cleared and deepened. "And besides, he's my friend."

'_He's my friend_.' Somehow, Renji couldn't help but smile at those bold, simple words. They were so innocent, so childlike, coming from the mouth of a child who was so old.

In the back of his mind, Zabimaru stirred again, settling his fur, and the whisper of his shifting energies made Renji's tattoos tingle in a familiar rush. It was something that happened every time he called on Zabimaru, but with the faint aftertaste of Hyorinmaru's energy still lingering on the back of his tongue, he found himself thinking back to his conversation with Ukitake about those who bore Zanpakutou marks. Before he could stop the impulse, found himself asking, "Snowflakes, sir?"

There was a long moment of utter silence before Hitsugaya growled faintly, "Remind me to give Ukitake a personal demonstration of my Bankai next time I see him."

Hyorinmaru's reiatsu pulsed again; this time, Renji could have sworn the dragon was laughing.

"Sorry, Hitsugaya-Taichou," Renji offered, genuinely apologetic despite his nervous chuckle. "Kuchiki-taichou explained a bit about the Zanpakutou markings to me a while back; I'd never realized that other people had 'em as well. Always figured it was just Zabimaru bein' weird, really."

"And then Ukitake felt it necessary to inform you of mine, of course," the young Captain muttered back, flipping the report closed and sitting up on the sofa. Much to Renji's surprise, he pushed the edge of his kosode back enough to reveal the hollow of one pale shoulder. Nestled within the shadow of his clavicle was a delicate filigree of pale blue and silver, twisting into a beautifully intricate snowflake barely two inches across.

"There are more, but you're not going to see them," Hitsugaya informed him primly, tugging his uniform straight, and Renji narrowed his eyes. Was the little Ice Prince actually _blushing_? Well, there could only be so many reasons for that...

"Don't worry about it; mine go to embarrassing places too, sir."

Toushirou glared at him in response, and Renji backed off, hands raised in surrender. "Sorry, sir. You said District One -"

"You needn't go after her, Abarai."

"With all due respect, sir, I do. I need to repair the mistake I made."

Blue-green eyes locked with garnet. "Abarai," Hitsugaya said slowly, "Hinamori and I grew up together, and I know her as well as anyone. Believe me when I say that you trying to approach her now will only make matters worse. I'll go out to District One this evening, after work. She'll be fine until then."

"You're certain?"

"Quite," Hitsugaya answered calmly. "She's with my Grandmother. Obaa-san won't let anything bad happen to Momo while she's there."

* * *

It was a little after eight when Renji dropped out of Shunpo at the gates of the Kuchiki manor, and he wasn't surprised when Ichigo landed a half-step behind him. Two of the house guards materialized out of the lantern-touched semidarkness, standing at polite attention before the two Captains. Ichigo cast them a wary glance, but Renji had come to the Kuchiki manor often enough to be inured to their presence.

"Oy, Ichigo. How's things?"

"Wonderful," came the responding sigh, sarcasm coloring the word so heavily it was almost visible. "Kira has... issues," he added wearily, when Renji quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Hn. I sent Momo out of the office in tears this morning," Renji admitted, still furious with himself for having lost his temper. Momo was fine; Hitsugaya had contacted him about an hour ago via Hyorinmaru through Zabimaru to inform him of that. Zabimaru was not particularly happy to be used as a message-relay, having informed his master in no uncertain terms that direct contact with Hyorinmaru made all his hair stand on end. Having felt the weight of the dragon's reiatsu earlier, Renji didn't doubt that in the least.

"I beat Kira to a bloody pulp yesterday... on Unohana's orders," Ichigo replied, looking nauseated. "And I can't deny it helped him, but there's got to be a better way."

"Have you tried talking to -"

"HEY!" Rukia's voice echoed suddenly from the grounds, followed by a loud splash and a yell of "_MEOW_!" One of the guards vanished instantly, flickering into the shadows within the walls.

Ichigo and Renji blinked in bewildered unison, then grimaced slightly as Rukia's voice shattered the already-cracked peace of the night with a string of vitriol that would have made even Kenpachi's hair curl. "...and just think, I'm supposed to marry her," Ichigo sighed, yanking at his already-straight haori and marching determinedly through the open gates, following the waiting guard escort.

Renji barked a laugh and followed as well, thinking as he did so that Ichigo didn't realize how lucky he was to have an easy way into a relationship.

* * *

It was Riko, the same lady-servant who had caused Ichigo so much consternation the morning of his promotion, who met them at the entrance to the mansion. This annoyed Ichigo but relieved Renji; most of the Kuchiki servants only thinly veiled their disdain for the 'lower class' Captains, and Renji knew full well that if he'd been forced to deal with one of them tonight, he would likely have broken their nose.

Rukia appeared when they were halfway through the labyrinthine halls leading to a small dining chamber, red-faced and cheeks puffed with annoyance, swearing under her breath about fish thieves. Her feet were bare and soaking wet, and her shihakusho was drenched to the waist and splashed above that. Renji and Ichigo both stared, but wisely refrained from commenting.

Riko took in her mistress's appearance without so much as a blink. "If Rukia-sama would care to return to her chambers, I will be along to assist her in changing once I have escorted the guests to the dining chamber."

"Thank you, Riko-san, that would be appreciated," Rukia answered, and stomped off without even acknowledging the dumbfounded duo, leaving an impressive trail of water in her wake. Two young women in servant's yukata appeared before the door had even shut behind her, frantically mopping the water off the polished hardwood floor.

Looking entirely unperturbed, Riko led the two Captains onwards.

"...fish thieves?" Ichigo asked finally, wondering how much he was going to regret the question, but unable to help asking it.

"A rather frustrating issue with Byakuya-sama's koi carp," Riko informed them solemnly, sliding open the door to the dining room and bowing them in.

Byakuya looked up from the head of the table as the duo entered. The noble had discarded his shihakusho in favor of a simple silk yukata, deep-blue with an eggplant-and-silver sash. It brought out the bluish undertones in his changeable eyes, and Renji stopped short a few steps in, bowing respectfully without ever taking his gaze from the Kuchiki scion.

"Thank you for the invitation to your home and table, Kuchiki-taichou," he said formally, and Ichigo bowed shortly, muttering thanks as he took a seat at the table.

Rukia rejoined them a few minutes later, wearing a soft lavender yukata with rich crimson embroidery across the back of the collar. Renji caught the significance in an instant, and nearly choked on his incredibly expensive gyokuro tea, earning himself a scathing glare from Rukia and a raised eyebrow from Byakuya. Ichigo merely looked perplexed at Renji's seemingly inexplicable coughing fit.

* * *

The dinner went surprisingly well. Taking Ukitake's words to heart, Byakuya had attempted to learn more about his sister as a person over the past few weeks, but his own social awkwardness usually made simple conversations feel more like an interrogation. Bringing Ichigo and Renji into the mix, while increasing the difficulty of his night tenfold, did prove to be an effective means for getting conversation flowing. And, much as he did not wish Ichigo as a member of his family, he could not deny Rukia's obvious affection for the young Visored.

In the end, he realized, watching Rukia trying to hide the smile on her face at Ichigo's incredulous expression - Renji was recounting one of his training sessions with Yasutora Sado before the War - seeing Rukia happy was enough. He had never been able to give Hisana the happiness she deserved; the least he could do was see that their sister felt joy.

Between Renji and Rukia's tales of their childhood - carefully glossed stories of happy moments, with no mention of the traumas Byakuya now knew they had endured - and Ichigo and Rukia's stories about their time in the Living World - often dissolving into near-shouting matches largely focused on Ichigo's borderline-insane family - made for an entertaining and informative evening.

"...wakes him up by trying to kick him in the head in the mornings!"

"Somehow, that explains a lot," Renji drawled, waving his chopsticks in Ichigo's direction. "Few too many hits to the head over the years?"

"Like you're one to talk," Ichigo shot back, trying to scowl hard enough to mask his laughter. "I'm not the one that dresses like a colorblind circus clown when I'm not in uniform."

"Urahara gave me those, they weren't my fault!"

"It was your fault for not burning them when he offered," Rukia snorted, and Byakuya silently nodded in agreement. He'd seen some of the clothing Renji had put on his gigai, and considered it a genuine insult to Renji's body that such appalling clothes had touched it.

"And that old yukata of yours with the flowers on it," Rukia continued, giggling behind her hand. "_Pink_ flowers, with your hair color? I know you're not colorblind, Renji. Why do you wear that thing, anyway?"

It had all been teasing, up until now, lightly meant and lightly taken. But this time, Rukia's lightheartedness hit a nerve she hadn't been aiming for, and Renji's hand went white-knuckled on his chopsticks. "You're awfully slow sometimes, you know that?" he snapped at her, an angry red flush darkening his cheekbones. "They're cherry blossoms, that's why!"

Utter silence fell. Rukia, looking appropriately embarrassed, set down her chopsticks and ducked her head in apology, Ichigo halted in mid-chew to raise a curious eyebrow, and Byakuya....

...stared.

His gaze was calm and level and gave away nothing, not that it ever did. After a long moment, Byakuya silently rose from his place at the table, smoothing his yukata as he stood in a habitually practiced gesture.

"Renji," he said softly, and nobody missed how the redheaded Captain flinched at the sound of his voice. "Please adjourn with me to the garden."

And with no more than that, Byakuya swept out of the room, leaving the others to stare after him in confusion.

Renji took a moment more to collect himself, drawing in a few deep breaths before he slowly got to his feet.

"If they can't find my body in the morning, apologize to Hinamori for me, would you?" he muttered, and ducked out the door before they could respond.

* * *

.

* * *

**A/N:** You hate me right now, don't you? Yes, ByaRen fans, The Confrontation You Have Been Waiting For will happen... _next_ week. (giggles) How about... if I get 25 reviews on this chapter by Sunday night (25th April), I'll post the next chapter on Monday/26th, two days early. If not, it'll be posted on Wednesday as usual. Sound fair?

*Renji's hair: think Legolas in the LotR movies. For some reason, I think that style would suit him - his hair is so sexy down, and that's an effective style to wear long hair 'loose' while still keeping it out of your face.

**Fish thieves: It's Yachiru, because she said I haven't been giving her enough screen time - which is true! - and demanded a cameo. I... sort of obliged. (In a few of the omake segments, she's shown dressing up in a cat costume, stealing Byakuya's carp, and transferring them to Ukitake's pond for no particular reason.)

***Rukia's yukata: Traditionally, trainee geisha in Japan would wear an underkimono with an exposed _red_ collar to indicate that they had not yet given up their virginity. Either Riko or Byakuya is trying to tease Ichigo; the problem is, Ichigo is a little slow on the uptake.

The lines 'Pink...? With your hair?' is inspired by **Aleia15**'s story '_Paper Hearts_.' If you have not read it, you must go and do so NOW. It is the most perfect Bya/Ren oneshot ever written.

Reviews feed my hungry soul!


	16. Confrontations and Confessions

A/N: Hey, everyone! First off, THANK YOU SO MUCH for the _amazing_ response to the last chapter. I know I'm evil, but at least I'm honorably evil. Here is the chapter, two days early as promised! Massive thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, and to Kiananic, who was Reviewer # 25 for that chapter.

Also - announcing it early this time - I will be doing another free request fic for the 250th reviewer. I had tremendous fun doing Whitecloud's request, so keep those reviews coming and good luck, everyone!

Those of you who follow the anime as well as the manga may have noticed that I've been very carefully dancing around the subject of the filler arcs thus far; I try not to reference them because they're technically not canon, and I would like to limit their influence on the story. However, in here I have no choice but to bring in some of the themes and character references from the Zanpakutou Rebellion Arc. (Before anyone asks, it is not Muramasa. It will never _be_ Muramasa. I don't _like_ Muramasa. Or his fingernails.)

And now, I will cease blathering and let you read on to The Confrontation You Have Been Waiting For. Enjoy!

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 15: Confrontations and Confessions

"_If they can't find my body in the morning, apologize to Hinamori for me, would you?" Renji muttered, and ducked out the door before they could respond._

"Do you... think we should go after them?" Rukia asked after a beat,voice uneasy, staring at the door Renji hadn't quite closed as he left.

"No," Ichigo grunted back without hesitation, bending his head back over the table and applying himself to the food he hadn't managed to finish. "They've been dancing around each other for way too long if even I notice it. They've obviously got some issues to work out, so let them be. Eat your dinner."

Rukia stared at him, lavender-blue eyes wide with disbelief. "Do you really think they're going to work out _those_ kinds of issues? Now? In the garden?"

Something about the tone in her voice made Ichigo pause, a bite of delicately broiled fish suspended in his chopsticks, halfway between plate and mouth. "Maybe. Hopefully. Why?"

Rukia gave a squeal and bounded out of her seat, a small digital camera appearing in her hand from who-knows-where. Actually, Ichigo wasn't sure he wanted to _contemplate_ where. Chances were it was someplace Renji and Byakuya wouldn't appreciate him contemplating - not before the wedding, at least. Gods. Wedding. He was going to _marry_ this crazy woman, who was currently waving the camera at him and exalting at the top of her voice.

"My brother, the most desired man in the Seireitei, making out with Abarai Renji, the hottest guy in the Seireitei, in our beautiful garden? This is the opportunity of a lifetime! Of a thousand lifetimes!! The SWA will never forgive me if I don't get pictures!"

"Hey!" Scrambling to his feet, Ichigo managed to seize the back of her yukata as she leaped for the door, hauling her backwards by a firm grip on her sash. "First off, there probably won't be any making out. Remember this is _Byakuya_ you're talking about. Second, hello, that's your _brother_. Both of them. You shouldn't _want_ to get pictures of them making out! And third, they are both entirely capable of killing you if they realize you attempted to take intrusive pictures of them in a private moment," he finished, hauling her around and jabbing a finger at her nose to emphasize his point.

"Hardly," Rukia answered with a snort, waving a hand to bat Ichigo's finger away. "They'd never hurt me. For one thing, Ukitake wouldn't let them."

Hard to argue with that, since it was likely true.

"And besides, don't you think they'd appreciate having a picture of their first kiss?" she added, blinking puppy-dog eyes up at her scowling captor.

"No," Ichigo answered dryly, hauling her backwards towards the table by the handful of silk he was still grasping. "I think they'd appreciate being left alone."

"I think _I_ would appreciate a picture of their first kiss..."

"And I think you're being interfering and perverted," Ichigo scowled. "Sit down and finish your dinner, Rukia."

"Or what?" she grumbled, tucking the camera into her sleeve and sitting down, apparently acquiescing. "You'll spank me?"

"That's a thought," he muttered, releasing his grip on her yukata. No sooner had his hand fallen away, though, then Rukia leapt for the doorway again, crowing with triumph.

"Dammit!" Launching himself after her, Ichigo managed to tackle-grab her around the waist, knocking them both to the floor. Using his far greater weight, he managed to pin her down long enough to wrestle the camera away, stowing it inside his own kosode for safekeeping. Rukia pinched him in retaliation, and he pinned her hands above her head with his other hand, sitting a little more heavily on her hips to keep her from squirming.

The delicate cough from the still-open doorway by their heads froze both of them in place as they realized exactly how compromising their position actually was.

"It's not what it looks like!" they shouted in near-perfect unison as they scrambled apart, Ichigo narrowly dodging the fist Rukia aimed at his head.

Framed by the open door, Riko stood silently, hands hidden in the sleeves of her uniform kimono, eyebrows raised in question. "I trust I am not interrupting anything?"

"You know damn well you're not interrupting anything, you perverse woman," Ichigo snapped at her, and this time Rukia's fist connected solidly with the back of his head.

"My apologies, Riko-san," Rukia said quickly, as Ichigo curled forward over his knees, clutching the back of his head and muttering a litany of curses under his breath. "Ichigo and I were merely having a minor disagreement over Nii-sama and Renji's discussion."

"Miss Pervert here wanted to go photograph her brothers making out," Ichigo growled as he straightened up, still rubbing his head. "I think she should respect their privacy."

"Ah," Riko answered softly, amusement and comprehension chasing one another across her features. "In this case, Rukia-sama, I must agree with Kurosaki-taichou. It is wisest that you should allow Byakuya-sama and Abarai-taichou their privacy in this matter. Announcing to the world at large that they are attempting to form a relationship before it has actually solidified would only cause strain on them, and quite possibly cause Byakuya-sama to withdraw any feelings he may have in order to protect his pride and reputation, as he has done before."

Ichigo heaved a sigh of relief, and Rukia's face fell.

"Besides," Riko continued, mischief sparking a bright light in her eyes, "if you allow your brother and Abarai-taichou more time to become comfortable with the concept of a relationship and expressing affection, the possibility of capturing them at an intimate moment becomes greater, and you will be able to distribute the photographs with little or no risk to their relationship once the Seireitei at large already knows."

Rukia squealed in delighted agreement, and Ichigo thunked his head on the table and wondered what the hell the world was coming to.

* * *

The gardens outside the Kuchiki manor were silent after dark, lit mostly by the light of the half-full moon riding high in the cloudless night. Renji paced the graveled paths cautiously; they weren't so familiar to him that he could walk them by memory, and the moonlight cast odd shadows through the branches of the trees.

Tracing Byakuya's reiatsu through the elaborate designs of tree and stone, Renji finally found the other man seated on a smoothed boulder, staring upwards into the moonlit branches of a sakura tree.

Stopping short, Renji took a long moment simply to admire the scene before him; Byakuya's deep-blue yukata blended into the darkness around him, and the silver glow of the moon gave his upturned face an ethereal cast. He looked surprisingly peaceful and utterly breathtaking.

Well, if he'd ordered Renji out here to kill him for his presumption, at least Renji's last sight would be one of beauty.

"...sir?" he called softly, reluctant to disturb the noble's peace, but too agitated to wait any longer.

"Come seat yourself, Renji," Byakuya replied, gesturing towards the empty space beside him on the stone. Taking a shuddering breath, Renji forced feet gone suddenly numb to comply.

The stone was surprisingly warm when he brushed his hand against it; seating himself tentatively on the smooth surface, he tried not to bump against Byakuya as he made himself comfortable.

Even as Renji settled himself, Byakuya did not turn from his contemplation of the tree above them, branches black and leaves silver-gilded against the night.

"It is beautiful, is it not?"

"Um..." Mimicking the other man's posture, Renji stared upwards. Frankly, it just looked like a tree in the dark to him, but his aesthetic senses weren't as refined as those of a nobleman. "Yes, sir."

A _chuff_ of exhaled breath beside him might have been a laugh. "Renji, I no longer outrank you. You need not continue calling me 'sir.' "

"...what am I supposed to call you, then?"

"I think," came the slow answer, and Renji knew the man well enough by now to detect a hint of humor in his voice, "that 'Byakuya' would be acceptable."

Renji's breath caught. Before he could respond, however, Byakuya continued to speak. "I do not offer you my name lightly, Renji, you know this. And I would ask something from you in return."

"Name it," Renji whispered, speaking through a throat gone tight with shock.

"I need you to tell me, with utter honesty, how you feel about me."

_Shit. _Renji jerked back, sinking his teeth into his lip, feeling his hands bunch in the fabric of his hakama. "Sir, I -"

"Byakuya."

"Byakuya," Renji repeated slowly, wishing he wasn't too terrified to savor the taste of the name on his tongue. "I... really wish you hadn't asked that, because I'm not sure I can answer you."

"Do you not know your own feelings, Renji?"

Oh, he knew them all right. Which was precisely the problem. "I know what I feel, sir. Byakuya." _I'd just prefer not to be facing down your Bankai again, which is what will happen when you find them out._

"Renji, as it has clearly escaped your notice, kindly observe that Senbonzakura is not on my person at the moment."

Renji blinked. He _hadn't _noticed, truth be told, which he probably should have. Come to think of it, he'd left Zabimaru in the dining room earlier, so neither of them was physically armed. Not that that mattered in the least - Byakuya could just as easily kill him with kidou, or, hell, his bare hands. As delicate as the man looked, he was the perfect Shinigami - lethal in every possible way.

"Ah," he managed intelligently, and his fingers knotted into his hakama until he heard the fabric tear. Grimacing, he smoothed the torn linen with trembling hands and tried to remember how to breathe.

"I have... the deepest respect for you that you can imagine. You're powerful, and deadly, and beautiful -" _shit didn't mean to say that! - _"and I've looked up to you since the first time I saw you. I hated you at first, but you were always my goal. To fight you, to defeat you, because I wanted to make you feel some of the pain I felt when you took Rukia away from me; she was my only family, and I was so, so angry that you could do more for her than I could.

"But when I came to the Sixth and started working with you, especially after the Ichigo Incident, when you started being a little less..." pausing for breath, Renji groped after an appropriate word. _Hardassed_ and _cold_ seemed too cruel... "...impersonal, I began to have more respect for you as a person. You're a good man, Byakuya, I want you to know that, and I -"

The fingers that touched his lips were cool and smooth, a gentle pressure that nonetheless instantly halted the rambling flow of words.

"Renji," Byakuya said slowly, in a tone that suggested he'd been incredibly patient, "you have not answered my real question."

His voice still trapped behind graceful fingers, Renji made a vague noise of inquiry in his throat, hoping against hope that Byakuya wouldn't ask him the one question he couldn't circumvent answering -

"Do you love me, Renji?"

The world crashed down.

Closing his eyes, Renji drew a deep breath that carried the scent of Byakuya's skin from the fingers still against his mouth and very carefully nodded his head.

* * *

"I see."

How many times had he heard those words uttered, that expressionless voice speaking those two syllables, in the middle of a battle or in the middle of their office, it had never made a difference...

Memories flickered across the back of Renji's eyelids, stolen moments with the man before him, the man he was so certain was going to end his life any second -

- until cool lips pressed against his own.

Their touch was delicate, no firmer than the fingers had been, but Renji could have sworn he died and was reborn in that moment, as he felt the man he'd chased, worshipped, _loved_ for so long moved those silken lips across his chapped ones. Shock parted his mouth when instinct did not, and suddenly his entire body was flooded with the taste of Byakuya, mint and tea and something so exquisite it was beyond his ability to name.

The gentle touch withdrew, and Renji opened his eyes, slowly, meeting Byakuya's gaze. Those changeable eyes, washed to silver-grey in the moonlight, met his, and there were too many emotions swimming behind their depths for Renji to name.

"I am sorry," Byakuya whispered. A fleeting touch of those cool fingers brushed over Renji's cheek, a burst of reiatsu - _Flashstep_ - and quite suddenly, Renji was alone in the garden in the shadowed moonlight.

* * *

He was still fuming the next morning.

Renji couldn't recall what excuses he'd made to Rukia and Ichigo - he'd somehow phrased it more tactfully than 'The bastard stuck his tongue in my mouth, apologized, and then took off!', though not by much. He'd stormed home, ignoring Ichigo's shocked protests and Rukia's almost tearful apologies - exactly what she was apologizing for, he couldn't guess - and thrown himself onto his bed for a night of restless sleep and bewildering dreams.

He'd woken up far too early and in a foul mood, and it wasn't improved when he arrived at his office five minutes past dawn to find two officers waiting there for him; both were Third Seats. One was his own, taking over duties for the still-absent Hinamori.

The other was Byakuya's.

"Message from Kuchiki-taichou, Abarai-taichou," the latter said, holding out a folded dispatch for him. If he'd been in a better temper, Renji might have said something to the young man in an attempt to banish the nervous quaver in the Third Seat's voice; as it was, he simply took the paper and snapped it open. He recognized the elegant calligraphy in an instant; Byakuya's handwriting was unmistakable, particularly after all the time he'd spent reading it.

The message was short and to the point;

_Renji,_

_Please oversee joint training for the Fifth _

_and Sixth Squads today and tomorrow._

_Byakuya_

He reread the note three times, even turning it over to check the back of the paper. When nothing more presented itself, Renji huffed in irritation. So the guy kissed him last night, said he was sorry, vanished into thin air, and now expected him to take over both their Divisions while he did... _what_, exactly? And what was he supposed to make of the use of given names? It was certainly out of character for the other Captain; when he'd still been in the Sixth, any correspondence Byakuya had sent to him had born either an ink-stamp signature or a sketch of the Kuchiki crest, never simply 'Byakuya.'

Then again, he'd never had permission to call the Kuchiki scion by his first name when he was still in the Sixth, either.

Shoving any and all thoughts of Byakuya and his erratic behavior to the back of his mind, Renji rounded on the Third Seat again. "Joint training?"

"Hai, Abarai-taichou," came the quick answer. "Kuchiki-taichou sent instructions early this morning via private messenger placing the Sixth under your command for training for the duration of his absence. General Field Three has been reserved for the two Divisions for all of today and tomorrow, and his orders suggested he would return the day after that."

What the hell was going on here? Kuchiki-taichou hadn't taken a day off of work since the death of his wife, and he had _never_ simply up and vanished like this, not for any length of time. "Any particular word on where the hell he's disappeared to?"

"Ah, no, sir. We were actually hoping you might know...?"

"Dayo, at this point I know less than you do," Renji snorted, slapping the note face-down on his desk with enough force that his hand stung. "Fine, collect whoever's on the roster for today and get 'em out to Field Three by eight, I'll meet you there. Dismissed!" he barked when the man hesitated, then groaned as Dayo snapped off a salute before vanishing out the door. Dropping his head into his hands, he slumped against the edge of his desk, focusing on the dull pain of the wooden edge digging into his thighs instead of the agony tearing out his heart.

"Am I a bad Captain, Masai?" he asked his own Third Seat wearily, and the pale-haired woman blinked back at him in surprise.

"Not at all, sir. There's going to be an adjustment period whenever someone comes to a new position, but consensus is that you're doing extremely well. You're powerful, well-liked and well-respected, and, despite the fact you were completely unprepared for your promotion, you've handled it admirably."

"Well-liked and well-respected..." Renji repeated with a faint laugh. "Hinamori's opinion aside, I suppose that's true."

"Hinamori-fukutaichou has not been in her right mind for some time, Abarai-taichou. None of us were deluding ourselves on that matter."

* * *

It was well past sunset by the time Renji finally slid back the door to his quarters, his eyes immediately seeking out the figure sitting calmly on the floor of his living room, back to the door. The small oil lamp sitting on the low table beside him had been lit and was burning steadily, and Renji wondered, as he had been wondering for several minutes, how the hell this guy had gotten into his quarters without raising every alarm in the place.

He'd been able to sense the man's reiatsu from outside the walls of the barracks; ocean-deep, as powerful as any of the senior Captains, but quiescent. The impression Renji had gotten was bedrock surrounding a particularly powerful, if dormant, volcano.

"Can I help you?" Renji asked tersely, maintaining politeness only through sheer force of will. Training had been interesting, to say the least; his Squad was sadly out of practice and a few of them were painfully incompetent with their blades. He'd sparred with enough of them that even the worst among their numbers had a chance to land a hit or two, and his arms, sides, and back were going to be an astonishing mess of bruises by tomorrow. He was in no sort of mood to deal with an unannounced and uninvited guest.

"I was hoping to speak to you, Abarai-taichou," his visitor replied calmly, turning his head to regard Renji from the corner of one silver-grey eye. Thick, snow-white hair fell past the man's shoulderblades, and an impressive, equally white mustache hid his mouth from view and enhanced the stubborn block of a jaw.

Crossing his living room slowly, Renji settled himself in a seiza on one of his oversized floor pillows, cautiously enough to mind his forming bruises. Kneeling across from his visitor, Renji was surprised to see the lines seaming the old man's face. Very, very few Shinigami lived long enough for their age to become so apparent; Renji's estimation of his visitor's strength went up a few notches.

"Do you know who I am, Abarai-taichou?"

Well, introductions seemed like a reasonable place to start. "No, I don't," he replied, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

"My name is Kuchiki Ginrei -"

He got no farther than that, however, because Renji threw himself forward with a shocked gasp, fists and forehead pressing into the polished hardwood floor. "Kuchiki-sama, forgive me my insolence, I had no idea -"

"Peace, Abarai-taichou," the old man growled, raising a hand to stop the babbled apology. "You need not apologize to me; it was I who invaded your space, not the other way around. And," he added as Renji straightened up again, face pale from the shock, "you may call me Ginrei-san if it pleases you, Abarai-taichou."

"Ahhh..." rubbing the back of his neck in a habitually nervous gesture, Renji hit a bruise he'd forgotten about and winced. "Thank you, Ginrei-san. Can I, uh, offer you something to drink?"

The man nodded slowly, his face still expressionless as ever - obviously Byakuya came by it naturally - and answered simply, "Tea would be satisfactory, thank you."

Nodding, Renji scrambled to his feet and headed for his kitchen, trying to kick his thoughts into order as he did so. Kuchiki Ginrei, Byakuya's grandfather, had retired as Captain of the Sixth Division decades ago, when he passed leadership of both Squad and Clan on to Byakuya. Despite that, the man was still considered a living legend - second only in age and power to Yamamoto-soutaichou himself.

And he was sitting in Renji's fucking living room, expecting tea.

Fortunately, Division Supply kept the ranking officer's kitchens stocked, so Renji was able to find a complete tea service for two without much trouble, as well as a couple of traditional sweets to serve. He carried the tray back to the living room in a fog of disbelief, wondering at how surreal his life had recently become.

Although he didn't perform it with the flawless grace and elegance of a born noble, he'd attended enough tea ceremonies with Byakuya - attempting civilization through osmosis, perhaps? - to have the ritual gestures memorized. He managed to get through the entire ceremony without embarrassing himself, which was a feat in and of itself, given how nervous he was.

"I am here on my grandson's behalf," Ginrei explained finally, when they had both received their tea, and Renji felt his cheeks turn crimson. If Ginrei was here to accuse him of actions detrimental to Byakuya's honor -

"I am quite aware of what happened between you in the garden last night, and you needn't have that expression on your face, Abarai-taichou. I have only Byakuya's happiness in mind."

Which would have been more of a comfort if Renji knew exactly what Byakuya's happiness entailed; Renji in his bed, or Renji flat-out dead?

"I can unhesitatingly assure you that my grandson both accepts and returns your feelings, Abarai-taichou," Ginrei informed him calmly, and politely ignored Renji's choking gasp of shock.

After Renji had collected himself again, Ginrei continued, "The only remaining question is whether he will choose to act on them. Ever since his childhood, Byakuya has striven to be both the finest Shinigami and Clan head possible. He does so not only from a deeply ingrained sense of responsibility, but in hopes of excising sins he bears no responsibility for that have nonetheless been darkening the name of the Kuchiki House for over a century."

There was a significant pause, and one bushy eyebrow cocked itself. Reading the silent suggestion, Renji obediently asked, "Sins, sir?"

"I need not remind you that what I am to tell you shall not leave this room," the old man warned him, and Renji bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"Byakuya's father, my son-in-law, was a powerful Shinigami. Regrettably, he was also power-hungry, narrow-minded, and deceitful. We discovered little of this before the damage had been done, including his betrayal of the Soul Society and of my daughter. His unfaithfulness to her resulted in a bastard child, and the shame of having an unfaithful and traitorous husband drove Byakuya's mother to take her own life."

Renji gaped at him for a moment, utter shock overwhelming him. Byakuya had... a half-sibling? And his mother had - gods. "I'm sorry, sir," he said softly, bowing his head respectfully. He couldn't imagine losing a child, but the pain of loss itself was something he knew only too keenly. "It must have been painful for you."

A slow, dignified nod was his only response. "Difficult for myself; unthinkably painful for Byakuya, who was a very young child at the time. That loss made him short-tempered, quick to anger and long to forgive." Ginrei paused, and Renji could have sworn the old man smiled faintly before continuing. "Little though you might realize it now, Byakuya was quite a hellion as an adolescent. However, as he grew, so to did his determination to be everything his father was not; an exceptional Shinigami who was wholly virtuous, eternally faithful, and unfailingly obedient to the Soul Society. I hardly need to tell you the results of the last," he added, and Renji grimaced, his scars prickling at the memory.

Ginrei paused to take another sip of tea before continuing, and Renji thought the old man winked at him over the rim of the cup.

"My grandson's incredible stubbornness has never ceased to cause him trouble, a fact I'm sure you can both understand and appreciate. He is still determined, so many years later, to uphold his vows to a woman who never loved him."

Wincing, Renji set his cup down with a thunk, turning away so that the man before him wouldn't see the pain prickling behind his eyes. How stupid had he been, to ever think that Byakuya would ever -

"His feelings for you are the first true challenge those promises have had, and he struggles with them. Truth be told, I have not seen him so distraught since Hisana's death," Ginrei continued, his voice freezing Renji in place. "He has kept his heart locked away for so long, chained behind promises made to deaf and uncaring ears, that he has a great deal of trouble acknowledging it now. That is why he requested you oversee his Division for these two days - he is in one of the mountain satellites to the Kuchiki estates, attempting to organize his thoughts."

"...ah," Renji answered finally, feeling.... well, 'overwhelmed' didn't begin to cover it. 'Like the world had just yanked the metaphorical rug out from under his feet' came close, but still didn't quite sum up the intensity of disbelief pressing down on him. Very slowly, he turned himself back around, staring over his table at the older man. "He's... willing to... uhm..."

"Abarai-taichou," Ginrei interrupted, meeting and holding Renji's gaze, "I will state this plainly. When he returns, my grandson will have reached a decision about pursuing a relationship with you. I hope, for both of your sakes, that he elects to do so. It is long past the time that Byakuya's stubbornness and fear should stop guiding his life." Gently replacing his cup on the tray, Ginrei rose to his feet, nodding his head to Renji in a brief show of respect.

He did not, apparently, expect Renji to see him to the door; just as well, given that the numerous shocks of the past hour had left Renji's body too numb for him to stand, let alone walk.

Pausing at the doorway, Ginrei looked back at Renji for a long moment, his grey eyes startlingly compassionate in his lined face. "You should know, Abarai-taichou, that, regardless of his decision, my grandson feels as strongly for you as he has ever felt about anyone, including Hisana herself."

The single lamp he had left burning guttered out as door slid closed, leaving Renji, for the second time in two nights, alone in the dark.


	17. Rise and Fall

A/N: Hey, everybody! As you can see, we're going back to the regular Wednesday posting schedule from here on. One note before we get started; those of you using the Anonymous Review feature, if you have a question for me, _please_ leave an email so I can actually reply and answer it? Or you are welcome to email me directly, address is on my profile page, or Tweet me LostInHeadSpace. Thanks, guys!

CONTINUITY NOTE: Those of you who have not, please take a moment to read my story 'Friendly Interest.' It's a short piece, pretty sweet, and it will help you understand a good portion of what's going on late in this chapter. Thanks!

WARNINGS for this chapter include some angst and minor alcohol abuse. Author's PSA, Please drink responsibly and _never_ drink and drive, people die that way. Thank you and enjoy the story.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter Sixteen: Rise and Fall

_...promotion of Baradi, Aramaki, Hishou, and Sakidoba to eighth, tenth, fourteenth and nineteenth seats respectively, pending a one-week trial period for all transfers. This distribution leaves only the sixteenth and twentieth seats of the Division unfilled. _

Pausing, Shuuhei looked up from his report long enough to glance across the office to where Yumichika was sprawled - somehow making even that seem elegant and graceful - on the plushly upholstered chair behind his desk. Although he was perhaps the most unlikely choice for a Lieutenant in the history of the Seireitei - well, Yachiru excluded - Yumichika was doing a remarkably good job.

He'd spent the first six days in his new position bounding from one corner of the barracks to another, chatting with everyone, trading beauty tips with the woman, combat stories with the men, (and occasionally vice-versa, depending on whom he was speaking to), and generally making an utter nuisance of himself.

However... within those six days, he'd learned the life story of pretty much every officer in the Division, and out of the one hundred and seventy-six members, only three weren't completely wrapped around his finger. Two had considered him weak; when he'd defeated both of them in combat, simultaneously and in under thirty seconds, without even drawing his blade, they'd reconsidered pretty damn quickly.

The third one, Dannuk, was a bigoted ass that Shuuhei had been trying to get rid of for ages; the man had been more than happy to accept a transfer to the Fourth Division when it was suggested, rather than keep working in a Division under 'that friggin' tranny whore.'

Shuuhei had refrained - barely - from suggesting that Dannuk face Yumichika in single combat as well. Getting his stick-adorned arse handed to him by Ayasegawa wouldn't have improved his attitude any, and it was easier all around to simply foist the man and his erroneous notions -Yumichika's past profession aside - off on someone else.

The move might have seemed like pure avoidance on Shuuhei's part, but he'd done it with a higher goal in mind; a few months of working under Captain Unohana would leave even the narrowest mind open and tolerant. The woman was firmly accepting of essentially any and all lifestyles, provided that the parties involved in said lifestyle were all willing and happy. And she made _damn_ sure that every single one of her officers was just as accepting. Within a few months, Dannuk would be a changed man - or a dead one. Regardless of how the Eleventh might have thought of them, members of the Fourth could hold their own.

Right now, Yumichika, his paperwork long since finished - the man was alarmingly efficient - was deeply absorbed in rewrapping the hilt of his Zanpakutou. Shuuhei hadn't asked questions when he'd watched his Lieutenant come in that morning, absently tossing a skein of sapphire-blue silk thread from hand to hand, but he'd been able to feel the smug elation in Ruri'iro Kujaku's energy from across the room.

Dipping his brush back into his inkwell, he returned his attention to his report.

_Ayasegawa Yumichika is proving himself as an exceptional Lieutenant. He has exceeded expectations on multiple levels..._

_

* * *

_

It was surprisingly easy, Renji realized, to perform your duties efficiently when your heart was in turmoil.

In truth, burying himself in work seemed to help him forget the fact that his former Captain was set to return to the Seireitei tonight, having made his decision on whether or not he would pursue a relationship with Renji.

Marching up and down the lines of Shinigami, inexperienced members of both his squad and the Sixth, Renji snapped out orders for basic kendo movements, watching them with the analytical half of his brain. Occasionally, the wooden bokken he was carrying would sweep out to deliver a light, stinging smack to an erring student, followed by his calm, steady instructions on improving.

And improve they did, drastically, even in the space of the two hours he drilled them for before moving on to one of the more experienced groups. Stripping off his Captain's haori, he set it on the ground to use as a cradle for Zabimaru and the precious scarf. As he stepped into the sparring ring to face the first round of his seated officers, he forced himself into battle-mind and tried to ignore the fact his stomach was still writhing with the torment of not knowing.

It had been a fool's hope from the beginning, he knew that. Byakuya was a noble, one of the highest of the high, head of the most prestigious of the Four Families, Captain of one of the most respected Divisions in the Seireitei.

What could he ever want from a Rukongai street rat, a stray dog like Renji?

'_A stray dog that's been entrusted to heal the most damaged Division in the Gotei. A stray dog who achieved Captaincy in a time period second only to Hitsugaya. A stray dog that bears the marks of his Zanpakutou, something not even Yamamoto can claim. Stop abusing yourself, foolish child,' _ Zabimaru grumbled in his head, startling Renji enough that the bokken he was in the middle of dodging actually clipped him in the side of the head.

"Damn," he muttered, blinking his stinging eye, then, "Sodai, victor. Next opponent!"

"I didn't - that was _luck_!" Sodai squawked, torn between disbelief and indignation.

"Luck's saved my ass more than once, kid. Sodai, victor. _Next opponent_!"

In the end, Renji knew he would respect Byakuya's decision, no matter which way the man chose. It didn't mean he would love the stubborn noble any less, wouldn't stop him from desiring the man if Byakuya decided against pursuing a relationship. He would never give up hope, but if Byakuya decided his heart still belonged to Hisana and his promises, then Renji would accept the decision gracefully. He would fight to maintain their friendship, awkward and tentative as it was, and maybe, down the road, that friendship could deepen to become more.

And even if he never convinced Byakuya to come around, he would always have the memory of that one perfect, heart-stopping, soul-searing kiss.

* * *

"Byakuya-sama? Did you find what you were looking for?"

His head bent over the shelves in the Kuchiki Clan's family archives, Byakuya calmly ignored the hovering servant. Carefully slipping the archaic scroll he held back into the protective case, he sighed faintly as he wrapped the polished wooden cylinder in a swath of fabric and placed it into his small pack.

"I did," he responded finally, so quietly that for a moment he was afraid the servant hadn't heard him. Apparently, though, the man's ears were better than he'd assumed, because the servant bowed in response.

"Will you be requiring any further assistance, Byakuya-sama?"

The faintest thread of fear twisted its way through Byakuya's stomach as he regarded the small leather pack in front of him. He'd spent two days now reading through ancient texts, family histories and the personal journals of former Clan Heads, grappling with the decision he knew he had to make.

"No," he answered finally, when he sensed the hovering servant was beginning to give in to impatience. "I am returning to the Seireitei directly. Please convey my appreciation to my Grandfather for the use of his estate when he returns."

"Of course, Byakuya-sama," the servant answered promptly, bowing deeply as Byakuya shouldered the small bag and swept out the door, leaping into Flashstep as soon as he cleared the mansion's gates.

For all the small size of its contents, the pack resting on his back felt uncomfortably heavy. It didn't surprise him, though; the weight of his recent past and his entire future rode within it.

* * *

The sun had already reached - and passed - its zenith by the time Renji flopped down, sweat-soaked and exhausted, in the shade of one of the heavy trees ringing the training ground in order to eat his lunch. All around him, members of the two Divisions were in similar states and positions. Although none of them had been working as hard as Renji, he'd been putting them through their paces with grim efficiency, driving all of them to just shy of their point of collapse before turning his attention on another group.

Several people had moaned about his 'slave-driver tactics' within his hearing, but there had always been laughter behind the remarks. In the Fifth, it was because they finally had a Captain who cared about them and how they were perceived, not only by the rest of the Gotei, but by themselves as well.

Members of the Sixth, who had been well-used to 'the old Renji's' more laid-back training methods, laughingly complained how much 'that damned white coat' had changed him in such a short time.

Still, they were at ease around him, something the Sixth could never have claimed with Kuchiki-taichou. That wasn't to say they didn't respect him; deference was clear in each of them when they spoke, but there was no fear, no anger, and no resentment.

Which was, Renji reflected as he ate his first onigiri in two bites and started on his second, precisely what he'd been aiming for.

He was absorbed enough in his lunch that the approaching reiatsu didn't register until he realized that all of the officers around him had gone quiet. Grimacing, he glanced up, then blinked in surprise at the figure before him.

"Sitting down on the job already, Renji? You haven't been a Captain long enough to get complacent," Rukia teased, toeing him in the leg.

"And you haven't been a Lieutenant long enough to get that lippy with your senior officers," Renji shot back, chucking one of his onigiri at her head.

To nobody's surprise, she caught it deftly, settling herself on the ground beside him to unwrap it and eat.

"Ukitake sent me out to make sure you hadn't killed anyone, including yourself," Rukia grinned between bites, holding up her hands in defense when Renji glared at her. "He knows you're stressed, okay?"

Great. The Seireitei Rumor Mill at work. "I take it you informed him exactly what kind of stress I was under?" Renji growled, eyeing his empty water bottle and wondering if it was worth expending the energy to throw it at her when she would probably dodge anyway.

"No, I didn't say anything. Ginrei-sama came to talk to Ukitake last night after he'd spoken to you, and I eavesdropped."

Which would have been inexcusably rude if both men hadn't been aware of her presence, but the day that two senior Captains - never mind that one of them had been retired for decades - missed one sneaky little girl lurking outside the door was the day Rikichi was declared Soutaichou.

"Why tell Ukitake?" Renji grumbled, glaring half-heartedly at his water bottle until a full one was dropped into his lap. He sat up with a curse, transferring the glare to Rukia even as he uncapped it and drank.

"Nii-sama used to be in the Thirteenth Division, dumbass. And he's closer to Ukitake-taichou than any of his real uncles. Didn't you know that?"

No, he hadn't. Not about the Thirteenth or the uncles, although the latter didn't surprise him. He'd met a couple of Byakuya's uncles, and they were all arrogant, cold-hearted bastards.

"Ginrei-sama doesn't believe in risking rumors of nepotism," came the answer to the unspoken question, and Renji nodded faintly. The more he knew about Ginrei, the more he respected the man's judgment and wisdom. There was no doubt in Renji's mind that Ginrei had made an exceptional leader to the Sixth, every bit as good as Byakuya, or that he'd taught his grandson well.

"Anyway, the other half of the reason I came out here was to remind you about the meeting tonight," Rukia continued, and shook her head in exasperation when Renji looked blank. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Ah...."

"Taichou and Fukutaichou. Tonight, eight o'clock, First Division? Part congratulations party, part how-are-you-doing meeting? And you're due to turn in your initial report?"

"I turned that in this morning." He'd been too wound up to sleep after Ginrei had left, so he'd spent a good three hours finishing up his assessment report before he finally collapsed. He'd had it sent off to the First when he'd woken back up at dawn, after a scant three hours of sleep.

"And you forgot about the meeting."

"Yes, I forgot about the fucking meeting. Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic. You're still the same idiot I know and love," Rukia laughed, then up-ended her own water bottle over his head and took off while he was still sputtering curses.

* * *

Kira'd been in and out of the office about eight times in the past hour, and Ichigo wasn't sure if his Lieutenant really was that busy or just too distracted to sit still. The second wasn't like him, but then, neither was the first. Kira was usually far too organized to be that busy.

"Are you actually doing anything, Kira, or are you just running around for exercise?" he asked finally as the blond swept past his desk yet again. Kira jumped, startled, and stammered guiltily for a second, until he realized Ichigo was grinning.

"I, ah... A little of both, sir. The party is tonight, remember?"

Ichigo blinked at him, face blank, and Kira sighed, his nervousness dissipating as he remembered just how new at all this Ichigo was. "Captains and Lieutenants are to meet tonight at eight in the First Division main hall?"

"Oh. That."

"Yes, Ichigo-taichou, _that_," Kira sighed back, using the half-assed formality Ichigo had more-or-less demanded ('Don't call me Kurosaki-taichou, all right? I won't know who you're talking to!'), and knowing from Ichigo's expression that his mild sarcasm wouldn't earn him any reprisals.

"And I suppose I have to go."

"Attendance is mandatory for all Captains and Lieutenants; anyone who does not attend, barring medical emergencies, will be dealt with personally by Yamamoto-soutaichou," Kira recited. It was a speech he'd memorized a long time ago; he'd had to deliver it to Gin every time one of these damn meetings was announced.

( Oddly, Gin had suffered six consecutive attacks of appendicitis. Doubly odd because Gin didn't actually _have_ an appendix. )

"Is that what's got you so worked up? This party tonight?"

"Aa. Trying to make conversation with the other ranking officers is a little... awkward. I'm really not the social gathering type."

"And I am?" Ichigo snorted, and Kira managed to dredge up a grin in response.

"Well, misery loves company," the young Captain muttered, and bent his head back over his paperwork. "You can take the rest of the afternoon off if it'll make you feel better."

"Thank you, but I'd rather have something to do. Being distracted helps."

"In that case..." Ichigo waved the pen he was holding (he'd smuggled several dozen in from the World of the Living, refusing to work with a traditional brush) towards the small stack of unfinished paperwork on the corner of his desk, "feel free to help yourself."

Smiling faintly, Kira took half the stack of papers and returned to his own desk.

* * *

"You look annoyed, Captain," Yumichika purred several hours later, as he strode through the doors of the First Division's meeting hall side-by-side with his superior.

"Hm?" Raising his eyebrows, Shuuhei glanced down at his Lieutenant. "Yeah, I guess. I'm not thrilled about being dragged away from my squad to waste an evening pretending to socialize."

Yumichika snorted indelicately. "You? Annoyed at a chance to hang out with your friends and raid the Head-Captain's wine cellar? I'm surprised, Captain. One would think you'd jump at the chance."

Sharply slanted eyebrows twitched upward. "Are you calling me a drunken party animal?"

"No, of course not," Yumichika drawled, batting his eyelashes in mock-innocence. "That would be Kyouraku-taichou."

"I resemble that remark!" the Captain in question shouted from somewhere within the room, causing a general wave of laughter.

One braying laugh from across the room cut off any response Hisagi might have made. A quick glance showed Omaeda, head thrown back and roaring with hilarity, while Soifon bristled with palpable rage beside him, a wet stain of tea spreading across the front of her haori and an empty cup still clenched in her hand.

Evidently, Omaeda slapped shoulders when he laughed.

"When I take time off, I prefer to spend it with people I actually _like_," Shuuhei muttered over the obnoxious laughter, snagging two cups of sake from a passing server's tray and offering one to his Lieutenant.

"I see your point," Yumichika answered dryly, accepting the delicate cup with a nod. "Just call it an evening off for entertainment purposes," he added, snickering faintly as a sudden surge of icy reiatsu from the other end of the room dropped the temperature a good twenty degrees. Behind Shuuhei, Ukitake hastily excused himself from a conversation with Urahara and Nemu to to go mediate Hitsugaya's dispute before it started snowing.

Shuuhei pulled the collar of his shihakusho a little tighter against the chill and raised his glass with a sigh. "Kanpai."

* * *

Renji tightened his fingers around the cup in his hand; tea, not sake, swirled delicately in the white porcelain. He'd deliberately avoided anything alcoholic tonight, no matter how much he may have wanted a drink, he was determined to keep his wits about him. Byakuya would be coming back tonight; not even the stubborn noble would risk the Soutaichou's displeasure by failing to attend the meeting.

The only person on the invitee list who would not be showing up tonight was Hinamori; Renji had already given her excuses to Yamamoto, asking that any blame for her absence be placed on his shoulders.

So, here he was, lingering by the open shoji screen leading to one of the outside balconies, watching the paved walkway in front of the First's barracks in hopes of seeing his Captain's distinctive form.

"Ah, Renji-kun! How are you this fine evening?" Ukitake inquired cheerfully, apparently materializing out of thin air beside him and startling Renji into sloshing hot tea all over his fingers. Hitsugaya was trailing a few paces behind the senior Captain, his proverbial feathers clearly ruffled, trying very hard to detach a shockingly pink hair bow from his right temple. Judging by the difficulty he was having, however, it had apparently been adhered either with Superglue or kidou.

It still amazed Renji that virtually nobody realized Kusajishi was proficient in kidou. He knew, of course; he'd served in the Eleventh, and had personally witnessed her terrorizing both raw recruits and seasoned veterans with a few well-aimed fireballs. What so few people acknowledged - or, for that matter, even knew - was that Yachiru was a competent fighter in her own right, and her combat skills actually _did_ go beyond biting people in whatever appendage proved to be in closest proximity to her teeth.

"Fine, thank you, Ukitake-taichou," Renji answered smoothly. It wasn't a lie, not really; he was certainly no more nervous now, waiting for Byakuya's return and answer, than he'd been... oh, before taking on a rampaging Espada that had nearly killed him...

Fine, so he was nervous.

Terrified, in fact.

"You're a lousy liar, Abarai," Hitsugaya informed him, finally yanking the hair bow free with a wince and tossing out the open screen and over the side of the balcony. Ukitake's gaze traced its flight path, smile lines creasing the corners of his eyes, while Hitsugaya folded his arms across his chest and very firmly pretended _it Was Not There and Did Not Happen._

"It's a personal matter, Hitsugaya-Taichou," Renji responded with icy formality, the sharp chill in his voice comparable to some of Byakuya's more frigid tones. When teal-green eyes narrowed at him beneath silver brows, Renji backpedaled quickly. "Aah, how's Hinamori? You said earlier that she -"

"She's fine, Abarai," Hitsugaya interrupted, his stance softening a fraction. "She's still with my Obaa-san, thinking."

"I seem to be causing a lot of that lately," Renji muttered under his breath, leaning back against the doorframe and glaring back out at the empty walkway. His former Captain, his possibly-current Lieutenant; what was he doing to keep driving these people off to 'think'?

"Byakuya's due back tonight, isn't he?" Ukitake remarked suddenly, following Renji's gaze out into the night.

Renji grunted a vague affirmative and nodded. "Should be. I didn't hear anything about him missing the party."

"He'll be here, then. It would be terribly rude of him to not show up if he were expected," Ukitake grinned, patting Renji on the shoulder and drifting off to converse with Shunsui, who was pretending to be three sheets to the wind as an excuse to embarrass his Lieutenant.

It was working, too; Nanao stood, red-faced and fuming, as Kyouraku knelt before her with a swirl of his pink yukata, singing in an operatic baritone about the incomparable love of a virtuous woman. Ukitake, for his part, seemed to find the entire thing hilarious. Nanao was not remotely amused.

"They're good together," came the sudden observation from beside him, and Renji glanced down at Hitsugaya in confusion before following the young Captain's gaze to where Kyouraku had turned his attentions to the still-laughing Ukitake. Both men were beaming, hands clasped together, so completely comfortable with one another that it was obvious they were in love.

"Yeah," Renji muttered sourly, turning away from the pair with a sigh. He couldn't bring himself to be angry, or jealous; both men had been through so many centuries of hardship together, and he would never wish them ill for their happiness. Still, it made it hard to be around them when your own happiness had not yet come.

'_You've gotten pathetic, you know that?'_

Renji bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a sigh. _ 'What do you want, Zabimaru?'_

'_To know what has happened to my master, the man who has never let the odds or other people's idiocy stand in his way.'_

"It's not idiocy!" Renji snapped aloud, then grimaced when Hitsugaya, still standing beside him, favored him with a sarcastic glance. _'Byakuya's been through so much with his family and his wife and Rukia - there's only so much one man can bear! I can't - I won't! - make this decision any harder on him. No matter what he decides... I'll abide by it.'_

'_I suppose you love him too much to do otherwise_.'

'_Yeah,' _Renji sighed back, wishing for a moment he was strong enough to ignore his heart_. 'I do.'_

_

* * *

_

Shuuhei tossed back another cup of sake, barely feeling the burn of the alcohol as it ran down his throat. He'd lost count of how many cups he'd had; not enough that he was losing bits of clothing, thankfully, but enough that he was getting comfortably numb to the buzz of voices and reiatsu surrounding him.

That numbness was probably why it startled him as much as it did when Kira was suddenly standing beside him, cradling his own cup of sake and looking just as tired as Shuuhei himself felt.

"Evening, Hisagi-san."

_Hisagi-san._ Shuuhei sighed softly, staring over the heads of the milling officers to the opposite wall, refusing to meet Kira's gaze. "You know it's been fifty-one years since you used my first name?"

He didn't have to be looking at Kira to sense the blond man's guilty start. "Has it really been that long?" came the soft question, although they both knew the answer perfectly well.

Those fifty-one years dated back to the night before Shuuhei had graduated the Academy. He still remembered the night spent under the starlight, the two of them surrendering themselves to the familiar touch and scent and taste of one another....

And then the next day at graduation, Kira had shaken Shuuhei's hand like they barely knew each other, saying only 'Congratulations, Hisagi-senpai,' and walking off again. Five years later when Kira graduated the Academy and joined the ranks of the Gotei, Shuuhei had hoped - even expected - that they would resume their relationship.

He'd been shocked when the blond had maintained a cooly professional distance from him, using politely formal address whenever they spoke, never giving any indication that he even remembered their relationship, let alone wanted to return to it. The closest they came was Kira's silent appearances at Shuuhei's practice sessions; even then, alone and under the cover of night, the only times Kira touched him were to heal his physical wounds. The emotional scars the blond's silent rejection had left were tended only by drowning them at the bottom of a sake bowl.

Even on the nights when they drank together - as often as not joined by Matsumoto or Renji - the subject of their former relationship was avoided by unspoken, mutual consent; at least until they were too drunk to know what they were saying, or remember it the next morning.

"You know it has, Izuru," Hisagi answered, fighting to keep his tone neutral. Despite his best attempts, though, a thread of anger coursed through the words. Instead of shying away from the anger, or repressing it as he would have done a few months ago, he let it flow, feeling the sharp bite of it within his skin. He couldn't blame Kira entirely - some of the blame had to fall on him as well - but that did not stop the ugly pulse of emotion within him.

Beside him, Kira sighed gustily and slumped against the wall, staring down at the cup of sake cradled in his thin fingers. "I'm sorry, Shuuhei."

Frustration and skepticism colored Hisagi's responding snort. "A little late for apologies," he growled, still gazing resolutely at the far wall. "It's been decades of us dancing around each other, trying to pretend that nothing ever happened, that we never..." Biting his tongue to silence himself, he closed his eyes and struggled to reign in his anger. _Feel it, acknowledge it, but do not lose control. _ "Just... tell me what I did so wrong that you had to leave me without a word. Don't you at least owe me that much, Izuru?"

"Nothing," came the tired whisper, and Shuuhei finally turned his head to look at the blond beside him. If Kira's expression was anything to go by, he was wondering if it was possible to drown himself in his sake bowl.

"There was... absolutely nothing you did wrong, Shuuhei. Every minute I was with you, right up to the last one, was nothing short of paradise."

Shock and bewilderment swept over the anger, forcing it down with numb confusion. "Then... why...?"

Kira shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. "You were a rising star, Shuuhei. You were already a fifth seat by the time I graduated, making a name for yourself among the Gotei. And there I was, nothing and nobody. The rumors... the damage to your reputation... it would have been too much. I didn't dare hold you back."

"Hold me back?!" Hisagi hissed incredulously, wheeling around to face the smaller man fully. "You thought that my being with you would _hold me back_? You _idiot_," he seethed, planting one hand on the wall beside Kira's head and pressing into the blond's personal space, "after that damn mission to the Living World, your visits to the hospital - don't you get it? You've never held me back, you moron; you were the one holding me _together_! I never gave a damn about rumors or reputation, and I still don't! So next time you decide to act in my best fucking interests, ask me what my real interests are first!"

* * *

"Are you quite finished arguing with yourself, Abarai?"

Renji growled faintly, low at the back of his throat, and refrained from looking at Hitsugaya. "I was arguin' with Zabimaru, sir, not myself."

"About Kuchiki." It wasn't a question, and somehow that annoyed Renji all the more.

"Why does it matter to you what I was arguing about, anyway? Why do you even fucking _care_?" he snapped bitterly, turning his shoulder to the young Captain to stare furiously out into the night, wishing he could just leave this damn meeting and forget that the past few days had happened. As long as he could keep the memory of Byakuya's kiss, the rest of it could go straight to hell as far as he was concerned.

"It may not have occurred to you, Abarai, but you are one of us now," Hitsugaya answered dryly. "You're a Gotei Captain, and that is a post granted to only the strongest among us, and a position worthy of the utmost respect. It is not something given lightly, and yet you still don't believe in yourself or your own worth. Why?"

When Renji didn't answer, merely stared at him in shocked silence, Hitsugaya continued fiercely, "After me, Abarai, and not counting Kurosaki, which of the Captains here obtained Bankai the fastest, do you know?"

What, guessing games? "Ah... Ukitake, or Kyouraku?"

Hitsugaya shook his head with a grunt. "No, both of them took over two centuries. It's not one of the senior Captains."

"Komamura?"

"One hundred and twenty years."

"Soifon?"

"A hundred and seven. Abarai, I know you're not stupid, but you obviously have the capacity to be remarkably obtuse."

Bewildered, Renji simply shook his head. "Sir, I honestly don't -"

"I achieved Bankai in thirty-seven years. The next quickest Captain did it in forty-four."

"But that's how long I -" the realization struck home like a ton of bricks. "Wait. _Me_?"

"Yes, Abarai," Hitsugaya sighed, "_you_. You achieved the impossible through stubborn determination and an utter refusal to allow anyone to dictate terms. You shouldn't -"

Exactly what Renji shouldn't do, though, he never did learn, because at that moment, Shuuhei's shout split the air of the meeting hall; '_So next time you decide to act in my best fucking interests, ask me what my real interests are first!_'

* * *

Ichigo nodded politely, listening with half an ear while Matsumoto rambled on about clothes shopping and Orihime and chocolate-covered watermelon onigiri (now _that_ was a horrifying thought!), paying very little attention to the happenings in the rest of the room.

At least, paying very little attention until Shuuhei all but shouted '_So next time you decide to act in my best fucking interests, ask me what my real interests are first!_'

The silence that fell was immediate and complete; every eye in the room turned to face Hisagi, still tucked into the isolated corner he'd been occupying most of the night. Except that now, Kira was in the corner with him.

And Hisagi was kissing Kira.

Very passionately.

And with what was probably an entirely inappropriate amount of tongue, given the nature of the gathering.

And then, just as suddenly as he'd shouted, Hisagi jerked backwards, releasing his grip on the other's kosode as guilt chased across his shocked-pale face. Kira just stared at him, silent and wide-eyed.

"Izuru, I - "

An abrupt motion of one pale hand cut Shuuhei off. In the ringing silence that followed, Kira calmly spun on his heel and, head high and back straight, walked out of the hall and into the night.

* * *

Author's End Notes:

* "... after that damn mission to the Living World, your visits to the hospital..." Referencing my Shuu/Kira story 'Friendly Interest,' which gives the background of their relationship. Read it, it'll help clarify a few things.

*Kanpai: A traditional toast or salute spoken before drinking. Equivalent to the Western toast 'Cheers!'


	18. The Deepest Cut

A/N: Wow. Thus far, this has been the most difficult chapter for me to write, both emotionally and in terms of characterization. It's a re-evaluation point for Kira, Shuuhei, and Renji - and, as several of you know already - Byakuya's return and his true confrontation with Renji.

Nitpicker Note: As I have mentioned previously, I have seen the Zanpakutou Rebellion arc, although I am trying not to allow it to overly influence the story. Late in the chapter, Renji refers to Senbonzakura as 'her.' That's not a typo; in this story, the ZRA and other filler arcs have not actually occurred, and Renji is assuming Senbonzakura's gender to be female because... well, honestly, it's _pink flowers_.

KIRIBAN INFO: For those of you who haven't yet, check out my story 'A Matter of Control,' which was Whitecloud1's request when she won my 150 kiriban. I will be doing another kiriban for review #250. The rules remain the same - no deathfics, no character bashing, and please keep request PG-15 or under. Also, previous winners please refrain from winning in the interest of fairness and let someone else have the pleasure, ;-)

WARNINGS: Language, angst, vague allusions to self-harm, and an anxiety attack.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 17: The Deepest Cut

_In the silence that followed, Kira calmly spun on his heel and, head high and back straight, walked out of the hall and into the night. _

For a heartbeat after Kira's exit, the hall remained utterly silent, every person within pinned in place by their own astonishment.

A breath of reiatsu and a shift of air broke the silence, and Ichigo's fist was suddenly knotted in the front of Hisagi's kosode, yanking the dark-haired Captain around so that he was nose-to-nose with Ichigo, their faces inches apart.

"Hisagi, you son of a bitch," Ichigo hissed, "what the hell did you just do to Kira?"

"I -"

"Ichigo. Back off." The sharp, familiar voice dragged the Substitute-come-Captain's attention away from Hisagi long enough for the latter to jerk free of Ichigo's grip. Hisagi yanked his shihakusho straight, face grim, as he and Ichigo turned as one to face Renji as the man strode across the room. Shouldering his way between Yumichika and Rukia - both of whom were staring at Shuuhei in undisguised astonishment - the redhead fixed the other two Captains with a piercing glare.

"Renji, he just -"

"I saw what he did, Ichigo, I've got eyes," Renji snapped, stopping a few steps short of them and leveling a Kuchiki-worthy glare over his shoulder at the staring crowd. Yachiru, in the background, yelled something nonsensical about bubbles, and the rest of the partygoers were immediately deep in conversation again, paying no heed whatsoever to the trio of young Captains clustered in the corner.

Attention diverted from them for the moment, Renji turned back to the others and arched one tattooed brow at Hisagi. "You wanna explain, or should I?"

"Explain _what_, exactly?" Ichigo snapped before Shuuhei could respond, and Hisagi felt a thread of unease course through him. Certainly he hadn't waited so long that Kira had moved on... and not to _Ichigo_, of all people?

No, he realized, forcing down as much of the alcohol haze as he could, trying to look at the the young man in front of him as objectively as possible. Ichigo's anger wasn't possessive; it was... protective?

Shuuhei knew, secondhand, what kind of friend Ichigo was. He knew that the young Visored would go to the ends of the Earth and beyond, risk his life and everything he had, just for the sake of a friend. He'd nearly died to save Rukia, _had_ died to save Orihime. But until now, that knowledge had been only intellectual.

For the first time, Shuuhei was seeing for himself how Ichigo defended the people he cared about. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it; it was simply the fact that he counted Kira as one of his circle of friends. He'd seen Kira get hurt, and he was trying to protect him.

And they called Renji a dog...

As if in response to Hisagi's thoughts, Renji grunted slightly and shoved Ichigo backwards, towards one of the benches set against the wall. "Sit, and I'll tell you."

As Ichigo dropped onto the bench, bewildered into obedience, Hisagi sidestepped to the refreshment table long enough to retrieve himself a cup of strong coffee before rejoining the pair. It might not help his brain function much, and it certainly wouldn't help his headache come morning, but he wanted to be as alert as he possibly could.

"...relationship in the Academy," Renji was saying as Shuuhei returned, settling himself silently on the bench next to Renji and wrapping both hands around the warm mug. "He was Kira's first... well, everything. And that was just great for six months, until Shuuhei graduated. The brass will ignore two students sleeping together and they don't give a damn about officers fucking as long as it's consensual, but even they couldn't overlook a Gotei officer screwing an Academy student. Doesn't matter that it was fine the week before."

Ichigo blinked slowly, processing that. "All right. But that was half a century ago. What happened?"

"_Nothing_ happened," Renji grunted, sounding annoyed. "And that was the problem. Kira moped for the next five years until we graduated. We got assigned to the Fifth when we left the Academy, but Hisagi was already a seated officer in the Ninth, so we never really saw him. I told Kira a few times to go after him, but he never did."

Shuuhei took a swig of coffee and snorted, the sound just as bitter as the unsweetened brew. "He thought it would be better for me if we weren't involved as officers, because of my fucking _reputation_. Idiot."

Renji's snarl of frustration was enough to make Shuuhei jump. "I should've known. Nobody in the entire damn Soul Society is better at making themselves miserable than him - unless it's _you_!" he added, jabbing a finger at Shuuhei's nose. "Why the hell didn't you ever go back to him?"

"_He_ was the one that left _me_!" Shuuhei snapped back, hackles and reiatsu rising as he leapt from the bench, his coffee mug shattering against the floor as he spun to snarl down at the cooly unaffected Renji. "What the hell was I supposed to think, when anytime I saw him he was acting like he never gave a damn? If he was going to fucking walk away and then pretend that we never - that we never... _fuck_," he whispered brokenly, clenching his fists and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Fuck. I screwed up, didn't I? I never told him..."

Still seated on the bench, Renji very calmly stared back up at his former senpai. "Shuuhei, you're drunk."

"I... have to go apologize," Shuuhei whispered, half-turning away. "I have to go tell him -" He hadn't even taken a step before Ichigo and Renji were in front of him, blocking his path.

"The only place you need to go is home, senpai. Go get some sleep," Renji advised, sternly. "You're in no condition to go chasing after anyone - unless it's Isane with a hangover remedy."

"But Izuru -"

"Will be fine. I think I know where he went, I can go -"

"_I'll_ go."

Renji and Shuuhei turned simultaneously to stare at Ichigo, both blinking in surprise. Frowning, the young man glared back at them. "He's my officer, and my friend. I'm supposed to look out for him."

A beat of silence echoed between the three, before Shuuhei exhaled a shaky breath and staggered forward a step, reaching out to clasp Ichigo's shoulder with one hand.

"Ichigo," Hisagi whispered softly, his voice rough with an exhaustion that was as much emotional as physical, "t_hank you._"

"Eh? What for, Hisagi?"

A tired, bitter smile answered him. "For being the exactly kind of Captain we've needed all along."

* * *

Following Renji's directions, it wasn't hard for Ichigo to find the secluded gravesite, even in the dark. The towering trees around it gave the location a sense of stillness; deep, restful calm, even for the dead who were still living.

Beneath the tallest of the trees, the elegant grave marker within its decorative fence stood out, startlingly pale in the night. The light-grey stone meant that the black-clad form sitting in a neat seiza before the carved monument was a startling contrast to its paler surroundings.

"I assume you know," Kira said softly, not raising his head, as Ichigo stopped a short distance from the grave.

"Aa. Shuuhei and Renji explained it to me. You okay?"

Sighing softly, Kira dipped his head to his parent's names, carved on the front of the grave, then rose up on his knees and shuffled himself around until he could sit comfortably on the stone steps. After a moment's hesitation, Ichigo came forward to join him, settling silently next to his Lieutenant and waiting.

"To be honest, I thought I'd gotten over Shuuhei," the blond admitted after a few long minutes, slumping forward and draping his forearms over his knees. "I guess I'm not as over him as I thought."

"Why?"

Wordlessly, Kira waved one hand in a vague gesture towards their surroundings, and Ichigo shook his head.

"No, I meant why were you trying to get over him? From what Renji told me, you guys were pretty happy. Why didn't you go back to him when you left the Academy?"

Sighing softly, Kira drew his knees up against his chest, folding his arms across them and resting his chin on his arms, bundling himself into the smallest possible space. "I couldn't do that to him," came the weary, thoughtful answer. "Shuuhei was - still is - amazing. The Gotei considered him a shining star among their ranks. He given a commission as a Shinigami while he was in his third year at the Academy - you have no idea how rare that is! By the time I graduated, he was already a seated officer. He was years ahead of me, and I knew that if I tried to... go back to him, that I would be holding him back. Shuuhei's a good man; he would have tried to slow himself down, so that I didn't feel so weak... I couldn't do that to him."

"Kira, you -"

"It doesn't matter anymore," the blond interrupted, dropping his forehead onto his knees as though he was trying to shrink himself into nonexistence. "That... what Shuuhei did... it didn't mean anything. He was just... drunk, and angry. I doubt he'll even remember in the morning."

"Fuck, Kira, have you always been this stupid?"

Eyes wide with shock and hurt, Kira snapped his gaze up to face Ichigo, pain writing itself clearly across pale features before he could school his face.

"S-sir, how can you -"

Sighing, Ichigo rubbed his temples with his fingertips. "Kira, just shut up and think for a second. When is the last time you can remember being happy? And I mean really happy, not just 'oh, the paperwork's done and I can go home now,' but really, truly happy?"

Happy? Kira closed his mouth sharply, frowning as he scanned through his memories of recent months and years - _it shouldn't have been this long since I felt joy,_ he realized, when he found himself seeking back decades for his last happy memory, until....

'_Izuru?' A faint, confused smile was starting on the corners of the terse mouth, dark hazel eyes watching hungrily as the blond slipped out of his school uniform, pale skin gleaming under the scarlet light of the setting sun._

'_This is the last night before your graduation, Shuuhei. I want to make sure you don't forget it,' Izuru whispered, mischievous smile on his lips as he pulled his lover into the fragrant grass, nimble fingers already working at the darker man's belt._

_And even though he knew this would be their last night together, that he would surrender Shuuhei for Shuuhei's own good, it didn't stop the pure, burning joy that surged through his body as they joined...._

"You're with Hisagi in that memory, aren't you?"

There wasn't much point in denying it, Kira realized, since Ichigo had known the answer before Kira himself had. Biting his lip so hard he tasted blood, he nodded faintly, resisting the urge to bury his head against his knees again.

"He's obviously not over you, either, you realize. Otherwise he wouldn't have kissed you, angry or otherwise."

Deep breath in, deep breath out, smelling like blood from his bitten lip. Kira frowned slightly, worrying at the tiny injury with his tongue as he fought down the surge of hope Ichigo's words had roused in him. "Do you really think so?"

"I know I'm not great when it comes to relationships, Kira, but I'm not completely blind, either. When someone kisses you - particularly like that - it usually means something."

Kira hummed a vague response, his mind still racing. Was it possible... could they start again, this many years later? Would he be able to be part of a relationship again? After Gin...

Squelching a wince, Kira pushed the thought aside. Shuuhei was nothing like Gin; that wasn't even a question. Still, after the years he had endured at the hands of his former Captain, did he dare enter into another relationship in which he would always be the weaker of the pair?

_No_, he realized, almost instantly. The balance would have to change... have to be equal. He could not remain weak.

Within his soul, he felt Wabisuke raise his head.

"Ano, Ichigo-taichou..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm... going to stay out here for a while, if you don't mind. I have some... thinking... that I have to do."

"That's fine, I don't have anything -"

"I'd like to do it alone," Kira interrupted, voice firm, and Ichigo hesitated, looking torn. Unfolding himself and straightening up, the Lieutenant let an exasperated sigh escape him. "Renji told you to stay with me and make sure I didn't do anything stupid, didn't he?"

"Ah..."

"Everyone's faith in my mental stability is flattering," came the sarcastic growl. "Ichigo-taichou, I'm fine. Really. I need to do some thinking for now, but I will see you in the morning. Please tell Renji thank you for his concern, but I have no intentions of doing myself damage over this."

Ichigo hesitated again, shifting uncomfortably on the step and staring down at the other man for a moment, weighing Kira's words and emotions in his mind. In the end, though, it didn't take him long to relent, clapping the blond lightly on the shoulder and standing.

"Think as much as you need to, just don't forget to sleep," he advised, making his way back to the faint pathway.

"I'll manage," Kira replied. "And... Ichigo?"

Already several steps away, Ichigo turned and glanced back. "What? Something wrong?"

"No, it's just..." drawing a deep breath, Kira visibly mustered himself, feeling the strength of his Zanpakutou, the strength he had dismissed and ignored for so long, rising within him. When he spoke again, his voice had the ringing strength of tempered steel. "I know I'm not ready yet, but when I am, I will challenge you to single combat. And the day we walk off that field as equals, I will take the Captaincy from you."

Ichigo's eyes widened sharply in shock, his head jerking back as he stared at his Lieutenant. After a moment, though, a smile, however faint, turned up the corners of Ichigo's mouth. "Good.," he answered levelly. "When you can do that, you'll have earned it." A pause, then; "Hurry up with that, would you? The paperwork is killing me."

The short bark of laughter that escaped Kira's lips startled them both. "Yes, Captain."

"I'll see you in the morning, then, Lieutenant."

"Yes," Kira assured him, "you will."

* * *

Renji stifled a weary sigh. After seeing Hisagi off - Yumichika had unselfishly volunteered to leave the party early and drag his intoxicated Captain back to their barracks, something that might have confused Renji if the latest rumors hadn't suggested Madarame Ikkaku hauling a spare futon into Yumichika's quarters at the Ninth. Gods knew Yumi wasn't going to pass up on an excuse to spend time with his longtime lover, even if it did mean missing the rest of the party and contending with Shuuhei, who was about two cups shy of falling-down drunk.

Then again, Ikkaku made it a point to get himself into that same state at every available opportunity, so Yumichika was probably used to it.

Without her husband-to-be available to harass, Rukia had taken to pestering Renji for an explanation of Kira and Shuuhei's little display; she either hadn't known or had simply forgotten about their Academy romance. Renji stuffed her full of as many details as he could without risking his neck to either Byakuya or Shuuhei's wrath, then retreated to the balcony he'd been staring over earlier and rolled the door shut behind him.

Although he was separated from the other ranking officers only by a few steps and a paper door, the air was much clearer out here, and Renji found his breath coming easier, and some of the kinks in his shoulders from the tension of the past days began slowly unknotting.

Settling his elbows on the railing, he closed his eyes and focused on simply _breathing_, trying to ignore the knot of nerves in his gut and the dull ache that had echoed between his head and heart. Yahi. Hinamori. Rukia and Ichigo. _Byakuya_. Their faces, their voices, all swarmed over his memory, each one bringing another jab of pain across his temples.

'_I don't consider you my Captain.'_

'_You tried to kill him!'_

'_Renji, I wanted you to hear this from me, not the rumor mill...'_

'_I'm sorry.'_

Drawing in a shaking breath, he clenched the wooden railing before him, fighting the voices down with every inhalation, every breath of the still night air. It seemed to take a century before the waves of nauseating not-quite-fear subsided, and his hands trembled with the strain when he finally released his death-grip on the rail.

Tipping his head back, he opened his eyes to stare up at the endless span of dark sky above. His eyes sought out the moon automatically, even though it was half-obscured behind the darkness of a heavy cloud.

A whisper of air brushed his cheek, and a tiny, glimmering reflection of the moonlight caught his eye. Turning his head slightly, he watched as the single cherry blossom drifted slowly down, past his shoulder, until he reached out, catching it delicately between his thumb and forefinger.

Despite his careful touch, blood beaded on the tip of his finger where the miniscule blade had cut him.

"I didn't hear you come in," Renji said softly, setting the tiny fragment of Senbonzakura's blade down on the railing and starting to turn. A shift in the air answered, and a slim hand settled between his shoulderblades. The message was unspoken but clear; _Don't turn._

Heart clenching, Renji stilled, then slowly moved back to face the night over the balcony railing and let his head hang. He moved his hands to rest them on the railing next to Senbonzakura's petal, and the gash the tiny blade had made in his fingertip left a streak of crimson on the bleached wood. Silently, he wondered if this would always be the extent of their relationship; Byakuya pristine and perfect while his, Renji's, blood colored the Seireitei.

"I'm sorry."

In the silence between them, the barely-whispered words sounded as loud as a shout. Hearing them, Renji felt his heart crumple. No matter that this was the response he'd expected, the reality of knowing was an agony greater than anything Senbonzakura Kageoshi could inflict. Would Byakuya vanish again, now, with those words the last Renji would hear of him?

Closing his eyes against the burning behind them, he felt with painful clarity as Byakuya's slim hand slid away from his back and had to bite down on his tongue to keep from crying out - _don't you dare leave me like this, not without an explanation, not again! Even I deserve better than that! _A second later, though, the hand was ghosting up to his neck instead, tugging gently at the dark scarf there - _No, you can't take that back, it means too much! - _but it wasn't taken, simply loosened to fall lower against Renji's chest.

The cool hands vanished momentarily, but he could feel Byakuya behind him, the fabric of their haori whispering against one another as the noble moved, the soft sound of their sleeves brushing as Byakuya's hands returned, moving over his shoulders.

Renji gasped softly, instinctively flinching backwards as something cold settled itself in the hollow of his throat. He felt Byakuya sway backwards behind him to avoid a collision, and the noble's breath huffed against the back of his neck, the sound somewhere between irritation and amusement.

Embarrassed, Renji shifted forward again, resting his hands against the railing and forcing himself to wait patiently, ignoring the little jumps in his muscles as instinct warred with intellect.

The coldness settled into the hollow of his throat again, and this time Renji could identify it as a necklace; a pendant, glass-slick and heavy, with beads the size of the tip of his forefinger strung on either side of the chain. Cool fingers fumbled briefly at the back of his neck before the clasp settled against his spine.

Behind him, Renji heard Byakuya draw in a deep breath, and he wondered if he had imagined the shudder in it.

"Is this a goodbye present?" he asked finally, his tone trying for flippant but landing in bitterness instead.

"_No_." The response was exhaled against his ear. Though barely above a whisper, the word was vehement. "It is not a goodbye, Renji. See for yourself."

The flash of steel came almost too quickly to follow, and Renji's control over his tight-strung muscles snapped. He jerked backwards, away from the sword flashing in front of him, this time slamming into Byakuya's chest. He felt the smaller man stagger a step under the impact before clasping Renji's hip to steady them both.

"Calm yourself, Renji," came the low-voiced command, and Renji heard a low tremor in it, something that, in another man, he would have called fear. "Look upon your reflection."

Exhaling slowly, Renji closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing heart - racing not only from the sudden flash of Senbonzakura's blade, but also the narrow hand still pressing against the point of his hip.

"Does Senbonzakura really appreciate being used as a mirror?" he asked sarcastically, keeping his eyes closed.

"Senbonzakura has very firmly informed me that this is the wisest decision I have made in many decades."

Bewilderment blinked crimson eyes open. "Using her for a mirror is -" Renji stopped short, stunned silent as he finally caught a glimpse of his distorted reflection in the metal. He had to stare for a moment before what he was seeing registered, but when it did, his entire body went numb.

It took almost a full minute of staring for him to catch his breath enough to ask, "Why am I wearing a necklace with the Kuchiki family crest?"

Senbonzakura was removed from his field of vision, and he could hear the soft metallic rasp as it was slowly resheathed.

"While I was at my grandfather's estates, I was not merely arranging my thoughts." A gentle tug at his shoulder turned Renji around, arranging him so that he was leaning back against the railing. He allowed his former Captain to maneuver him as he pleased, too numb with shock to protest.

"It did not occur to me, at first, that your feelings for me had grown to the extent they had," Byakuya began slowly, his eyes downcast for the first time in Renji's memory. "Rukia is in fact the one who suggested you might... feel more for me than antagonistic admiration. Once she remarked upon it, however, I discovered that the attraction was... not one-sided."

The wave of shock was almost enough to make Renji dizzy, but he fought it back as Byakuya continued to speak.

"I should not have abandoned you in the garden that night, not without an explanation," Byakuya admitted, voice so soft Renji had to strain to hear it. "But I found myself overwhelmed. I could not think in your presence, but I could not allow myself to continue without knowing the impact my actions would have on myself and my Clan. I retreated to my Grandfather's estate, where the journals and personal histories of the Heads of the Kuchiki Clan are archived. The two days I was absent were spent researching the family archives, seeking historical precedence for... this," Byakuya finished somewhat awkwardly, gesturing vaguely between them.

Still stunned, Renji could do little more than shake his head in amazement. "What did you find?" he asked finally, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"Thirty-two generations ago, one of my ancestors, a previous Clan Head, married, but swiftly lost his wife in a battle. Distraught, he vowed never again to love a woman. However, his heart was soon captured by another man, a Shinigami captain."

Soft eyes, molten silver in the subdued light, gazed up at him. "The Captain was given a necklace identical to the one you now wear, as recognition of his status as Consort to the Head of the Clan."

Renji had to seize the railing behind him to stay upright as his knees buckled. Recognition... _Consort_?

"This recognition will grant you rights equal to those of a spouse," Byakuya continued, politely ignoring Renji's shock. "You will be formally recognized by my family and in our records." There was a brief pause before Byakuya dropped his eyes slightly. "I apologized to you a moment ago because my blade wounded you. It was not my intention to cause you harm."

Renji continued to stare at him for a long moment, before the shock was finally pushed back by a wave of cresting joy.

"Sir - Byakuya - you mean -"

Carefully, one pale hand captured Renji's wrist, and lifted the blood-streaked hand to the noble's mouth. Very gently, he laid a kiss on the wounded fingertip, a soundless apology. Then, lowering Renji's hand to clasp it between his own, he looked up into the burning eyes, the mirrors that had once shown him the empty reflection of his own soul.

Now, though, they reflected only the purest emotion he had ever seen.

"Yes, Renji. I do."


	19. Scars of the Past

Hello, all! Just a(nother) reminder: 250 KIRIBAN. Free request one-shot, rules are the same as before - No bashing, no deathfics, and please keep requests under PG-15. And if Whitecloud would kindly sit on her fingers and give someone else an opportunity to win, it would be appreciated, ;-).

Also, my apologies if any parts of this chapter are not up to the quality you have become used to; I have been sick for the past few weeks with what I learned yesterday is Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. I'm now on treatment for it, but it's making me a little foggy mentally, and I'm sincerely hoping it's not causing me to botch up my writing.

WARNINGS for this chapter include references to violence/mutilation (nondescriptive), and angst.

* * *

**RED DUTY BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 18: Scars of the Past

"My brother isn't stupid," Rukia whispered for the third time in as many minutes, anxiously jiggling one foot as she stared at the closed door separating the balcony from the main hall. Beside her, Ukitake hummed noncommittally under his breath, his eyes just as intent on the thin barrier.

Both of them had felt Byakuya's reiatsu - carefully restrained though it was - enter the area a few minutes before, mingling almost immediately with Renji's. Any attempt to deduce the nature of the conversation between the Kuchiki scion and his former Lieutenant, however, was foiled by Byakuya carefully shielding Renji's reiatsu with his own. Neither Ukitake nor Rukia dared edge close enough to the door to eavesdrop in the old-fashioned, human way.

"He's not stupid," Rukia repeated again, a shade louder, and yelped louder still when the door rolled abruptly open, revealing Byakuya and Renji, standing side-by-side and staring at her with unreadable expressions.

"Rukia. Ukitake." Byakuya's greeting was as cool and dispassionate as ever; Renji merely nodded, his face carefully blank like it never was. Rukia dipped a fast bow, mumbling her greeting and trying not to meet her brother's gaze.

"Byakuya, how are you this evening?" Ukitake asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he gazed at the duo. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, close enough that the length of their arms were touching, but both of them were masking their expressions and reiatsu so carefully, he couldn't get a read off of them. That was entirely normal for Byakuya - the man defined the term 'self-contained' - but it was unheard of for the vibrant, volatile Renji.

"My condition is satisfactory," came Byakuya's cool response, lavender-grey eyes blinking slowly as he regarded his former Captain. "I trust you are faring well?"

"Quite, thank you. Although I admit that you had us all rather concerned when you vanished the way you did," Ukitake added cheerfully, setting a hand on Rukia's shoulder as the girl edged a half-step backwards. "It's quite unlike you to leave without warning. Had something happened?"

One elegantly-shaped eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. "I had assumed Ginrei-jii-sama had informed you of my whereabouts and situation when he spoke to you. Was I mistaken?"

"Ah..." Ukitake winced delicately. Caught! "No, you are quite right, Ginrei-san and I did speak of your... particular situation when he came by. Forgive an old friend for his concern, Byakuya, but it's been far too long since you've shown any interest in simple human contact! I merely want to know whether you decided -"

"Ukitake, I have never encouraged inquiry into my personal life, I fail to see why you believe I would be doing so now," Byakuya interrupted him, tone chiding, and settled one hand against the small of Renji's back to guide the younger man forward and into the room.

Ukitake's eyes widened sharply at the small gesture. With anyone else, it might have been insignificant, but for Byakuya, even such a delicate touch was monumental. And, he knew perfectly well, the young noble's somewhat underhanded means of answering the question he had not allowed asked.

A broad smile curled its way across Ukitake's mouth. "Byakuya," he began, only to be cut off as Rukia ducked from under his hand and hurled herself against Renji, wrapping her arms around his middle in a crushing hug.

"Hey, hey! Take it easy, Rukia, 'm not going anywhere," Renji scolded, wrapping one arm around her shoulders in a lopsided hug. His other arm, Ukitake noted with some amusement, remained at his side, the back of his hand brushing Byakuya's haori with every movement.

"I know," Rukia answered, her voice oddly hoarse as she gave his ribs another painful squeeze. "I'm not allowed to be happy for you and Nii-sama?"

"If you breakin' my ribs means you're happy for me, remind me not to piss you off," Renji mock-growled, and laughed when she untangled herself enough to smack him in the shoulder instead.

"You -"

"Me, nothin'. Tell your brother," Renji chided, shaking her shoulder a little before draping his arm back around her.

Twisting herself against the steady hold of his arm, Rukia turned enough to look up at her adoptive brother. "Nii-sama, I..." Words failed her, though, and after a second of hesitation, she shifted enough to wrap her arms around him as well. "Congratulations, Nii-sama," she murmured, giving him a timid hug before quickly withdrawing, eyes downcast.

"Rukia." His voice, level as always, gave nothing away, but when she looked back up at him, a small smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Thank you. Your acceptance means a great deal to me. As does..." he paused, just as hesitant as she had been before hugging him. "As does your affection," he finished, barely audible.

The graceful hand pressed into the small of Renji's back shifted slightly, moving higher to settle just below his shoulderblades, and Renji realized that even through the layers of fabric separating the hand from his skin, he could feel the fine tremors coursing through it. Cautiously, he moved his own hand, slipping it around the tense back to settle just above Byakuya's waist, and he felt the knotted muscles slowly relax under the gentle weight of his palm.

Rukia gazed at them for a moment, violet eyes gleaming, before stepping forward again and wrapping an arm around each of them.

* * *

The next morning, Ichigo had already been in the office for nearly an hour when the door slid quietly open to admit his rather shamefaced Lieutenant. There wasn't any particular reason for the man to look that guilty - he wasn't technically due in for another fifteen minutes - but Kira was usually hours early.

"Mornin'," Ichigo grunted, much as he did on any other day, and glanced up only when Kira didn't respond. The blond was standing just inside the door of the office, face downcast and eyes dark-circled. If he had slept, it obviously hadn't been well.

Ichigo frowned slightly, setting down his pen and shoving the paper he'd been working on aside. When he'd left his Lieutenant last night, the man had been steely-eyed with determination, his course set to achieving Captaincy and resuming his relationship with Hisagi. That determination seemed to have vanished over the few intervening hours, leaving the blond as morose as he'd been before.

"Kira, what -"

"Sir, can we spar?"

Ichigo stopped short. The fact that Kira had interrupted him was startling, in and of itself, but the fact that Kira had asked to spar...

The last time they'd done so flashed across Ichigo's mind in a wash of sickening memories; the wet snap of Kira's forearm breaking, the scent of blood and battle-fevered reiatsu, the berserker madness that had flooded Kira's eyes when he'd been hurt enough. It wasn't an experience Ichigo wanted to repeat, _ever_, but Unohana had been adamant; Kira's emotional healing, at least initially, needed to be accomplished through physical pain.

Clenching his teeth, Ichigo resisted the urge to march through the nearest Senkaimon and go beat Gin's skinny ass to a pulp for screwing Kira up so badly.

"If that's the only way to sort out whatever's bothering you, then all right," Ichigo answered tersely, trying to ignore the nausea in his stomach at the thought of another fight like the one they'd had. "But you should probably read this first," he added, picking up the folded sheet of paper that had been waiting on the far corner of his desk.

For a long moment, Kira lingered in the doorway, staring at the paper with hollow eyes. When he finally moved forward to take it, his steps were silent, as though he was trying to hide his presence. And his hand, when he extended it to take the paper from Ichigo, was trembling.

'_He had nightmares_,' Zangetsu informed Ichigo abruptly, and Ichigo stifled a yelp only out of long practice. '_I will not tell you their contents, only that they struck down the faith he gained, both in himself and Hisagi._'

'_What can I do?_' Ichigo questioned back, watching as Kira skimmed the letter, stopped short halfway through, and then went back to reread it, much more slowly, his eyes lingering over every character on the page.

Ichigo knew exactly what the letter said; Shuuhei had shown it to him that morning, when he dropped it off.

_Izuru,_

_I want you to know that I don't regret what I did last night._

_What I do regret is the fact I didn't explain myself better; I should_

_never have shouted at you, and I know I'm an idiot for not saying so _

_earlier, but I want you to know - my feelings for you never changed. _

_I probably don't deserve it, but I hope that you'll forgive me and that_

_we can try to start over again._

_Shuuhei_

Zangetsu, watching through Ichigo's eyes, shook his head slightly. '_This matter is not yours to interfere with, Ichigo. It is for Kira and Hisagi to resolve and heal themselves_.'

'_I was afraid of that. They don't have a great track record_,' Ichigo grumbled back, ignoring Zangetsu's responding snort, and dragged his awareness back to the outer world as Kira looked up from the letter.

"Hisagi...?"

"Left that early this morning. He also brought those," Ichigo added dryly, nodding towards Kira's desk. The simple white vase was laden with flowers, and the heavy, varied perfumes of the blossoms had permeated the office to the point that Ichigo had thrown the windows open in frustration five minutes after their arrival.

"Oh," Kira murmured, carefully folding the letter and slipping it away into his kosode as he moved to the bouquet. Pale fingers delicately probed through the assortment of blossoms, and a shy smile slowly bloomed.

"Hydrangea, statice, heather, and..." Kira stared at the arrangement for a moment longer, then, much to Ichigo's surprise, began laughing, plucking a single red blossom from the vase and cradling it in his hands.

"What's so funny about that flower?"

"Ah," Kira managed, still laughing softly as he pressed the flower he was holding against his cheek. "It's not funny, actually, I'm just... well. All of these flowers have different meanings," he explained tracing the petals of one blossom gently with the tip of his finger. "Hydrangea is a heartfelt apology. The statice means 'I miss you.' Heather indicates that you value someone's friendship."

Ichigo traced the path of Kira's fingers over the different blooms in the vase, frowning slightly. "And what about the one you're holding? What's that?"

"A red tulip," Kira answered, sounding so utterly _relieved_ that Ichigo could only stare at him in bewilderment for a moment, until Kira touched the flower gently to his lips and carefully tucked it back among its fellows. "A single red tulip... a declaration of love."

* * *

"What the hell am I getting myself into?" Renji sighed, not for the first time.

He'd managed barely three hours of sleep last night; his head was spinning so wildly after the evening that he'd barely been able to drop off. When he'd finally dragged himself out of bed, a scant few hours later, he was halfway convinced that the previous evening had all been a dream.

Until he caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror on the wall of his bathroom.

The necklace, a string of thirty perfect black pearls, each the size of his fingertip, was divided in the middle by a heavy enameled pendant; jet-black with the Kuchiki crest rendered in gold. It stood out, bold and black against the unmarred skin of his throat, marking him just as irreversibly as Zabimaru's tattoos.

Still scarcely able to believe his fortune, he ghosted his fingers over the necklace, warm now against his skin. It was truly there, heavy and solid and _real_ under his hand.

After a long moment, he turned away from the mirror to retrieve his clean uniform and dressed quickly, arranging the precious scarf around his neck with an absentminded ease so that the drape of it covered the necklace at his throat.

* * *

"_I am certain you can appreciate the necessity of discretion," Byakuya said gravely, and Ukitake and Rukia nodded quickly in response. _

"_You have yet to tell the Clan Council, I take it?" the senior Captain asked dryly, and Byakuya's mouth twitched faintly._

"_The Elders will... not find themselves consulted in this matter," came the slow reply, and the hand still settled beneath Renji's shoulderblades trembled again. Cautiously, Renji rubbed his thumb back and forth across Byakuya's spine, and felt the man lean into him ever-so-slightly in response. "The arrangements will be solidified shortly, under Ginrei-jii-sama's supervision. Until then," he sighed, silver eyes turning towards Renji in an expression that he might almost have called 'pleading,' "I must beg your patience."_

"_You've got whatever you need from me, you know that," Renji assured him fervently, and was rewarded with one of Byakuya's faint, wonderful smiles._

_

* * *

_

Shrugging his haori on, Renji left his quarters as a brisk walk and headed for his office. The sun was barely over the horizon, but he still felt as though he was running behind. He'd made a point of being in the office before dawn for his entire first week, something that no doubt would have astonished his friends. Renji had never been a morning person.

He covered the distance between his quarters and his offices on autopilot, answering nods and greetings with absentminded politeness. He was deep enough in thought that the two reiatsu emanating from his office didn't consciously register until he slid back the door and caught sight of the two men sitting silently, side-by-side in the visitor's chairs along the wall.

Seeing Yahi Akihiko in his office, looking well-recovered from his mishap with his Zanpakutou, was not entirely unexpected. However, seeing him sitting next to Kuchiki Byakuya, of all people, was quite surprising enough to make up for it.

"Bya - ah, Kuchiki-taichou?" Renji exclaimed, fumbling at the last moment between name and title. If this was to be a personal meeting, Byakuya would likely have come to Renji's quarters, rather than awaiting him in his office. But what sort of business would they need to discuss? All of Renji's notes on the training had been left with Byakuya's third seat, and Renji had not been asked to handle any of the administrative duties of the Sixth during Byakuya's brief hiatus.

"Renji," came the calm reply, accompanied by a faint, respectful nod. "Your subordinate has been waiting on your arrival for some time. It will not offend me should you address his audience first."

"Yes, sir," Renji answered automatically, then stopped short for a second, blinking in confusion. Even if Yahi had arrived before Byakuya, the courtesy of rank dictated that Renji should have addressed Byakuya's visit before Yahi's. So why, then, was Byakuya suggesting...? Shaking his head minutely, Renji turned to face his officer with a genuine smile appearing on his face.

"Yahi. Welcome back! You're lookin' much better."

"Thank you, Abarai-taichou," came the slightly stiff reply. "I'm... very pleased to be returning, sir. You would have been entirely within your rights to dismiss me for my attitude and incompetence," Yahi added, his eyes still downcast, too ashamed of himself to look his Captain in the eye.

"Oh, you're not gettin' off scot-free, so don't worry about it," Renji said, voice stern but mouth smiling. "You've got two months of latrine duty to look forward to, and I've already altered your schedule so that you're in shikai training daily. I told you I was gonna make you an officer t' be proud of, and I meant it," he said fiercely, and Yahi finally lifted his head enough to meet his Captain's gaze.

"Sir, I..." shaking his head slightly, Yahi managed a faint, disbelieving smile. "Thank you, sir."

"Forget the thanks, Yahi. You're my officer; it's what I do. Now, we're not gonna have any repeats of that incident, ya got me?"

"Yes, sir!" came the fervent reply, then, "I mean, no, sir! There will be no repeats of the incident, I mean." Ducking his head again, Yahi added in a somewhat abashed tone, "While I was in the Fourth, Kazedai and I had... a very long conversation. He's more willing to help me now."

"_Good_," Renji answered feelingly. "A close relationship with your Zanpakutou is the easiest way to reach your potential as a Shinigami. Get back to your quarters, make sure all of your things are squared away, and report to Masai-sanseki for your new schedule." Renji retained his sternest gaze for a moment longer, before allowing a full-fledged grin to break across his face. "It's great to see you back on your feet, Yahi."

"Thank you very much, Abarai-taichou."

"Not a problem. Dismissed, Yahi."

Once the man had bowed himself out and closed the door behind him, Renji turned his gaze on Byakuya, wary confusion written in his tangled eyebrows. "Byakuya," he began slowly, "what are you doing here?"

"I am not entitled to see the man I am to be bound to?" the noble countered, and Renji winced, wondering if he'd managed to put his foot in his mouth already - until he realized that one corner of Byakuya's mouth was twitching upwards ever-so-slightly. Renji had been around his Captain long enough to recognize that miniscule movement as Byakuya's equivalent of roaring laughter.

"Very funny," he mock-growled, snagging the chair Yahi had been in a moment before and dragging it around. Dropping into it backwards, he folded his arms across the back and stared at the other man across the narrow distance, trying to weigh the nature of the visit from the tiny details of Byakuya's posture. "Really, Byakuya - not that I'm complaining about seein' you, but you're not the kinda person who drops in 'just because.' What's up?"

"Are there any pressing items on your schedule eight days from today?"

Renji blinked. Sat back in his chair, stared at Byakuya for a long moment, and blinked again. Anyone other than Byakuya, he would have questioned about their motives behind the question, but... they trusted one another. Wordlessly, he stood up, strode to his desk, and looked over his calender before glancing back at Byakuya. "It's clear," he answered slowly. "I usually work on the weekends, but a coupla my seated officers can handle it if you've got something in mind...?"

"I do. Please clear the three days following that date if possible and inform your subordinates that you will be unavailable during that time period."

Brush hovering over the page, Renji stood motionless, gaping at Byakuya in astonishment. "Sir, with all due respect, I've been Captain for a fuckin' week - I can't just take off whenever the hell I feel like it! My squad needs me!"

"I see," came the blank-voiced response. "We have not even sworn ourselves to one another, and already you are too busy for me?"

"Was that a _joke_?" Renji demanded incredulously, then; "It had better have been a joke, 'cause you know damn well that I'm never gonna be _too busy_ for you. You just have to remember that the Fifth ain't runnin' itself like the Sixth is, an' I need more than a week's notice t' take off. What's all this for, anyway?"

"I did tell you that there would be a formal ceremony recognizing your status as my official consort, did I not?" Byakuya asked mildly, delicate eyebrows slanting upwards.

"Yeah, why?"

"I intend the ceremony to be held eight days from today."

* * *

Ichigo stared at Kira for a long moment, his face a study in blankness. "Botany is a hobby of yours?" he asked finally, and Kira blushed, rubbing his nose sheepishly and mussing the hair covering the left side of his face.

"Something like that, yes," he mumbled sheepishly, distractedly finger-combing the strands back into order.

"Kira," Ichigo said after another long moment, "can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sir?"

"Why do you wear your hair like that? It's got to affect your vision and depth perception, having that eye covered all the time."

"It... does, yes," Kira admitted slowly, his fingers slowing and stopping as they straightened the fine hair.

"So?" Ichigo prodded.

"It's..." sighing deeply, Kira lowered his hand, clenching his fists at his sides to keep them from shaking. "Can you... come over here, sir? I have to... show you."

Ichigo's forehead knitted in confusion, but he slowly pushed back from his desk and strode across the room to where Kira stood, muscles wire-tight and trembling. Very slowly, the Lieutenant raised his hand - shaking so badly now that he nearly jabbed himself in the eye - and pushed the long bangs away. "You have to look closely," he whispered, turning his head so that his cheek caught the light. "It's difficult to see at first."

There was a moment of silence as Ichigo stared, narrow-eyed, at the pale skin, but then his breath escaped in a violent hiss as he finally saw it.

Etched into the flesh of Kira's cheek, just below the jutting cheekbone, were the razor-thin scars forming two delicate, perfectly written kanji. _Ichimaru_.

"That sick fucking son of a bitch," Ichigo exhaled, his reiatsu rising in a palpable storm. Kira winced under the onslaught of it, immediately raising his own in an instinctive effort to shield himself.

"Sir -"

The sound of Kira's voice, quiet as it was, recalled Ichigo to himself, and he dragged his reiatsu and temper back under control with sheer force of will, tempering the blazing storm of his own power with the control Kira had taught him.

"Kira, I don't.... how could you ever stand up for that man?" Ichigo whispered, aghast, as he stared at the surgically precise scars on Kira's cheek. "Matsumoto I can understand, and I know she bribed Hitsugaya into defending him somehow... but after everything he did to you, how can you bear to know he's still alive?"

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful, sir," Kira answered quietly, letting his bangs fall back to cover his scarred cheek, "but I don't think you would understand. Ichimaru is... not just the man you faced in battle. No matter what he has done to me, I cannot surrender my feelings towards him. I don't trust him - I don't know that I ever did - but, despite everything he has done, I could never bring myself to hate him."

"You're right, I don't understand," Ichigo muttered, turning away from Kira and staring out the open window. His reiatsu - once again to a steady hum, despite the torrent it had been a moment earlier - gave two small, swift pulses.

Almost immediately, two Hell Butterflies flitted through the open window beside his desk. One of them landed immediately on his outstretched hand, wings moving slowly in the gentle breeze. Ichigo thought for a moment or two, then carefully spoke his message to the moth.

"From Kurosaki Ichigo, Captain, Third Division, to Hisagi Shuuhei, Captain, Ninth Division. Hisagi, I'm giving Kira the next three days off of work. You might want to do the same for yourself. He'll be over in an hour or so. Message complete," he added to the Butterfly, which obediently flitted off his finger and out the window, seeking the barracks of the Ninth Division.

The second Butterfly, which had been waiting patiently on the windowsill, flitted forward to land on Ichigo's callused palm. This message, he directed to Captain Unohana, and Kira listened with a confused frown.

"Unohana-taichou, respectfully requesting the presence and services of Seventh Seat Yamada Hanatarou at the barracks of the Third Division at his soonest possible availability. Please have him bring his Zanpakutou. Thank you."

As the second butterfly danced out of sight, Kira glanced somewhat nervously at Ichigo. "Three days off, sir?"

"Aa. You and Hisagi need some time together," the young Captain shot back, seating himself calmly at his desk and dragging his paperwork back in front of him.

Kira stared at him for a moment longer, before feeling a smile twisting his mouth. It felt odd, having a Captain so opposite Ichimaru's razor smile and cutting words; for all his gruffness, Ichigo really did want his people to be happy.

Kira was hardly going to turn down that gift.

* * *

Hanatarou turned up at the Third within twenty minutes, a bit red-faced and slightly out of breath from running. Ichigo greeted the young medic casually, and they spent a few minutes in idle conversation over tea before Ichigo addressed the actual issue.

"Hanatarou, Kira has some scars on his left cheek that need to be repaired. They're... how old?"

"Ah..." twisting the porcelain cup between nervous hands, Kira ducked his head. "A little over thirty years."

"Thirty years?" Hanatarou echoed, fumbling his own cup in surprise. "Oh, my. That's.... um. I see why you wanted me to bring Hisagomaru."

"Can you do it?" Ichigo asked bluntly, and Hanatarou squeaked, startled, and nearly dropped his cup again. Very calmly, Ichigo plucked it from between his fingers and set it on the table.

"I.... uhm, probably? I don't know without looking," the young medic explained, blushing slightly.

Obedient to Ichigo's silent nod, Kira quietly swept his hair back from his face and sat steadily while Hanatarou examined the scars, occasionally touching them with nervous fingers.

"These cuts are very precise; almost surgical in nature. You obviously never moved while they were being inflicted... Were you under some type of anesthesia for this, Lieutenant Kira?"

The blond's scathing expression made Hanatarou blush again, dropping his hands and mumbling apologies, and Kira sighed faintly in apology.

"No, Yamada-san, I was quite conscious, I can assure you. My pain tolerance is very high."

"Aahh... well, that's a good thing," Hanatarou mumbled, nervously squinting at the scars again. "Um... Hisagomaru can heal them, but..."

"But what?" Ichigo demanded sharply, when Hanatarou trailed off, wringing his hands nervously.

"But I'll have to re-inflict the same wounds," came the apologetic whisper. "I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, with a fresher injury I could just make one cut and poof, but these have had quite some time to set, you see, and -"

"Do it," Kira interrupted, his eyes hardening.

"S-sir?"

Kira huffed a bitter chuckle. "I endured it once already, Yamada-san. Please, proceed."

"As you wish, Kira-fukutaichou," the young medic murmured nervously, drawing his Zanpakutou.

* * *

Half an hour later, Kira Izuru walked out of the Third Division barracks, on his way to the Ninth.

For the first time in three decades, his hair was brushed away from his face.

* * *

Storming through the doors of the Twelfth Division Headquarters, Ichigo wound his way through the hallways to the main research laboratory without pause. He remembered the layout of this place well enough from his previous visits; it was infinitely more pleasant this time, when he wasn't plunging into the bowels of Kurotsuchi's private madhouse.

"Oy, Urahara!" he bellowed, bursting into the main lab. Years of practice and a good bit of sheer instinct had him ducking the flying kick aimed at his ear, leaving his attacker to sail harmlessly over his head. A curse echoed sharply through the lab as they impacted the wall immediately beyond the door, sliding down it to land in a muddled heap on the floor. Straightening up and turning, Ichigo could only muster an expression of gape-mouthed astonishment as he realized the identity of his attacker.

"W-what the hell - what're _you_ doing here?"

"What the fuck do you think I'm doing here, Baldy?" Sarugaki Hiyori retorted, shoving herself upright and leaping to her feet. "I'm here on special orders from the Head-Captain, babysitting that fucking freak show!"

"...by 'freak show,' do you mean Kurotsuchi, or Urahara?" Ichigo asked dryly, and hopped backwards a step when Hiyori leapt at him and took a swing at his head, brandishing one of her waraji as a weapon.

"I mean the clown, you jackass. And stop trying to look down my yukata!" she added furiously, jabbing a finger at her chest. The brilliant crimson, knee-length yukata she was wearing over black leggings served to set her apart from the other Shinigami and members of the Division, and rightfully so.

The injuries Hiyori had sustained in the war should have killed her. They would have, truth be told, if Orihime hadn't returned in time to piece her destroyed body back together. In the end, although Orihime had saved Hiyori's life, the damage to her body had been too severe for even the Shun Shun Rikka to fully heal. In a reaction precisely the opposite of the one Ichigo had endured, Hiyori's Hollow abilities had vanished - taking the Shinigami powers they were so entwined with as well.

Hiyori lived. But her powers were gone.

Without any Shinigami abilities, her Zanpakutou and reiatsu lost, she had left the Visoreds, unable to stand the quiet pity that she saw in their eyes. She'd spent several months with Urahara, living under the same roof as Ichimaru. It should have been a recipe for disaster, but, somehow, the fact that Gin never once pitied her - instead, he teased her as mercilessly as Shinji once had - made her happier than she had been living with her former fellows.

The last Ichigo had heard, though, just after he'd come to the Soul Society, was that she'd moved in with Ichigo's own family in an attempt to provide some room for Renji and Shuuhei while they trained at the Shoten. He hadn't realized that she'd followed Urahara back to the Twelfth, evidently taking up the position of babysitting Mayuri. Well, if anyone could keep that monster in line, Hiyori stood a decent chance.

"I'm not trying to look down your yukata," Ichigo replied, keeping a grip on his patience with clenched teeth. "It's not like there's anything to see down it, anyway."

"Why you -"

"Where's Kisuke?" he interrupted, catching the fist she swung at him in one hand. "I need to speak to him. _Now_."

"He doesn't have time to deal with the likes of -"

"Kurosaki-san, I'd very much appreciate it if you stopped harassing my assistant," the man in question said dryly, appearing in a doorway that hadn't been there a moment or two before. A black fan moved slowly in front of his face, this one a steel-ribbed tessen with bladed tips, replacing the older, much less lethal paper one he had wielded as a 'simple shopkeeper.' "May I assume we can help you with something?"

"I need to borrow your Senkaimon," Ichigo answered flatly, releasing Hiyori's hand so abruptly the girl nearly fell over.

One pale blond eyebrow lifted. "Am I mistaken, then, in recalling that Rukia had you keyed into the Kuchiki family's private Gate? Because I could have sworn -"

"I am keyed in, yes," Ichigo interrupted, meeting his old mentor's ash-gray eyes with a frigid determination in his gaze. "But I'm not going home. I need to use yours because it's untraceable and lets out directly into the Shoten."

The fan froze momentarily. "Kuroaski-san," Urahara began, very slowly, "why exactly are you concerned with the Senkaimon you use being untraceable?"

"It's not your concern, Kisuke."

"If it's my Senkaimon -"

"I just said _it's not your concern_, Kisuke," Ichigo repeated, his voice lowering dangerously, and the small cluster of lab techs who had gravitated into the room all flinched backwards. Urahara, however, simply stared back at Ichigo for a long moment, weighing the determination in the young man's eyes.

Finally, he snapped his fan shut with a sigh, spinning on one heel and motioning Ichigo to follow him with an insolent wave of his hand. "Hurry up then, Kurosaki-san. I can only give you two hours before the energy drain of the Gate will be detected."

"I won't need that long," Ichigo answered coolly, striding after Urahara. "What I need to do will only take a minute."


	20. Turn the Tables, Turn the Page

A/N: Hey, everyone! For those of you who haven't seen it, check out the start of my new one-shot series, **Red Duty, Black Honor: Director's Cut**! It's a collection of scenes and sequences that I could not, for whatever reason, include in the main body of this story, but I thought deserved posting. It will be comprised of a lot of offscreen moments, scene expansions, and yes, the Noodle Incident will be included. Many thanks to **SymphonyofSilence** for her great 250 Kiriban request, which got the series started!

Also, thanks to everyone who wished me well with my illness! I appear to be well on the road to recovery, although the meds I'm taking are still making me a little fuzzy around the edges mentally. Please excuse any deficiencies in the chapter that result. Thankfully, I complete this round of antibiotics this week and with any fortune will not need another.

Warnings for this week: Kira's face is explained.

**Translator's Notes:**

'**Ikorose**' - Gin's Shikai release command. Translated both as 'extend' and 'shoot to kill'.

**Tatsuo**: male name, in this case meaning 'far-reaching man.'

Ryōtarō** Okiayu: **Byakuya's seiyuu, or Japanese voice actor, in the anime. (Reference will make sense later in the chapter)

**Isamu**: male name meaning 'courage.'

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 19: Turn the Tables, Turn the Page

Hirako Shinji peered at the cards in his hand and sighed. Two queens, a three, a seven, and an eight. Not particularly helpful, particularly considering that he'd already lost this month's manga budget to Kensei. Glancing across the low table, he scowled at the other Visored, and the pierced eyebrow raised in response.

"Well?" Kensei snapped, tapping his own cards impatiently with one callused finger. Before Shinji could respond, however, a dizzying roar of reiatsu engulfed them both, powerful enough to ruffle hair and lick scorching heat across their skin. Both men threw down their cards and seized their Zanpakutou, Kensei rolling into a defensive crouch as Shinji leapt behind the table, giving him more room for his longer blade.

The Senkaimon appeared with a clatter and a blinding rush of light, the reiatsu spilling out of it heavy with furious intent. Tightening his grip on Sakanade, Shinji reached for his mask.

A single Hell Butterfly flittered out of the blinding light, trailing sparks of energy from its wings as it darted across the room.

When Kurosaki Ichigo stepped out of the Senkaimon behind it, Shinji almost dropped his blade in astonishment.

"_Ichigo_?"

Clearly, Shinji wasn't the only one surprised with the youngest Visored's sudden appearance. He'd never seen Kensei look quite so astounded.

Then again, he'd never felt rage like this coming from Ichigo. From his Hollow, certainly, but this was _Ichigo_, not Shirosaki. The scorching heat of his reiatsu was unmistakable; there was no way it could be confused with the icy taint of his Hollow's.

"Shinji. Kensei," the young man answered simply, his voice cold. If he was surprised to see the Visoreds in possession of the old Shoten, he didn't show it. "Where's Ichimaru?"

"Why?" Kensei demanded; not relaxing his position or his grip on Tachikaze, Shinji noted with interest. Not that he could particularly blame him, as mad as Ichigo was. The boy looked a second or two from snapping altogether.

"I need to talk to him," came the terse reply. "Where is he, Kensei?"

The silver-haired man stared at him for a long moment before slowly shifting, slipping Tachikaze back into the sheath in his pocket. "Back storeroom, the one that never gets used. Don't kill him; he's the only one around here that does any cleaning since that girl left with Urahara."

Ichigo's only response was to nod shortly, sweeping past the pair of them without another word. The oppressive weight of his reiatsu lessened as he left the room, and Shinji lowered his blade with a relieved breath.

"Well, that was interesting," he muttered dryly, returning to his seat. Kensei's cards were still face-up on the top of the table, and he peered at them with curiosity. Royal Flush! Damn that bastard!

"Hey!" Shinji objected sharply when Kensei's gloved hand darted across the table to snatch up Shinji's cards, shuffling both of their hands back into the deck. "That was a good hand!"

"No, it wasn't," Kensei snapped back, effortlessly dealing a fresh hand for them both. "And mine was better, anyway."

"So why the hell're you reshuffling?"

"Moron. It's not gambling if you know what the other person's holding."

"Huh..." Glancing briefly at the door Ichigo had vanished through, Shinji picked up his fresh cards and surveyed the beginnings of a straight with satisfaction. "Yeah, guess you're right."

* * *

"Ichimaru."

At the far side of the rarely-used room, garbed in an old, threadbare yukata and wielding a broom against the accumulated grit of decades, Gin looked... almost pitiful. His body was so gaunt as to verge on emaciated, something that had been mostly hidden by the voluminous layers of clothing he'd worn as a Shinigami. His hands were red despite his sword-calluses, rubbed raw from the rough handle of the broom. He turned his head slowly at the sound of Ichigo's voice, his eyes - black today - narrowing as he saw who had called him.

"Ichi-kun... a Captain, I see. T' wha' do I owe the pleasure?" he drawled sardonically, tucking the broom under one arm and moving slowly towards the center of the room, weaving his way around and between the clutter of dusty, unmarked boxes.

"You mutilated your Lieutenant," Ichigo said slowly, keeping his fists clenched at his sides so that he would not be tempted to strike the traitorous former Captain. "_You carved your fucking name into his face_."

"Strai' to the point, a' course," Gin drawled, swinging the broom out from under his arm. When the head of it was firmly planted on the ground, he folded his hands on top of the handle and rested his chin against them, regarding Ichigo out of narrowed eyes. "Wha' d' ya want me t' say, Ichi-kun?"

"You can start," Ichigo answered tightly, jaw clenched so hard his teeth were aching, "with an explanation."

"An' yer really gonna believe anythin' I tell ya?" Gin countered, sarcastic and bitter, but he shrugged anyway. "If ya wan', I can tell ya why I did it. It all goes back t' Sosuke, a' course."

A dark glare prompted him to continue, and Gin did so with a thoughtful tilt of his head. "Way back, when Sosuke was busy recruitin' people, he saw that I'd kinda took a likin' to lil' Izuru. An' so he came t' me one night, an' said 'I wan' to take Kira with us when we leave. I think he'd make a lovely pet.' See, Sosuke liked ones like 'zuru - quiet an' compliant, yanno?"

Rocking absently back and forth, his hands and chin still propped up on the handle of the broom, Ichimaru continued slowly, "I didn' wan' Sosuke gettin' his hands on my 'zuru. He's sensitive, yanno? An' Sosuke's games woulda broken him real quick, like they did Momo-chan. I couldn' let that happen, an' Sosuke knew that... so after he'd said that, he said t' me 'I don't see your name on him, Gin. That means he's fair game.' "

"Oh, hell," Ichigo muttered, feeling nausea rise in his stomach. "So you seriously -"

"I didn' tell 'zuru why I was doin' it, a'course," Gin chuckled, his smile bitter. "But 'zuru-kun's a good lil boy, isn' he? Does whachya tell him an' doesn' ask questions, no matter what. Silly boy let me take a knife t' his face an' he never even asked why."

Gin never saw the punch coming. It landed hard in his stomach, doubling him over and forcing him to clutch desperately at the broom to remain standing as he choked on a sour mixture of blood and bile.

Standing over him, lips drawn back in a wordless snarl and red-black reiatsu twining up and around the length of his arms, Ichigo looked more deadly than Gin had ever seen him.

"You sick fucking son of a bitch," Ichigo whispered bitterly, drawing his fist back to strike again.

Mouth twisting in a smile, Gin spun the broom he was clasping, swinging the handle forward to level the point of it at Ichigo's heart. The whisper of a command escaped his lips slowly, almost lazily; "_Ikorose_."

With a violent curse, Ichigo spun sideways, seizing at Zangetsu's hilt, trying desperately to bring the wide blade of his Zanpakutou around in time to block -

...nothing.

The impact he'd been expecting never came. Blinking slowly, Ichigo turned back to face Gin fully. The former Shinigami was standing where he had been, one arm raised to shoulder hight and still holding up...

"Issa broom, Ichi-kun," Gin reminded him, a faintly hysterical giggle touching the words. "No more Shinsou, 'member? Can't hurt anyone anymore."

Ichigo stared at him for a moment longer in furious disbelief, then finally jerked his hand away from Zangetsu's hilt, allowing the blade to rewrap itself, then spun on his heel and marched out of the room without a word.

"No, no indeed," Gin giggled, his eyes narrowed to slits and a razor-edged smile spreading across his face. "Can't hurt anyone anymore," he repeated, brushing one finger lazily over the bare skin at his throat.

* * *

"That bastard did _what_?" Renji roared, surging halfway out of his seat and upsetting his teacup into Matsumoto's lap. She squawked an indignant protest, and Ichigo shook his head, waving Renji down and throwing a napkin at the fuming Rangiku.

"Relax, Renji. He... he had his reasons, okay?"

"That monster had _reasons_ for carving his fucking name into Kira's goddamn _face_?" Renji bellowed back, infuriated, and Ichigo just stared at him, dead-eyed and blank-faced until Renji sat down and listened to Ichigo recount what Gin had told him. When he was finished, Renji slumped over in his seat, utterly appalled.

"I never suspected it," Renji admitted hollowly, staring at his plate. "I stayed in touch with Kira as best I could when we graduated, but when he went to the Third it started eating up so much of his time... every time I tried to have him out with the rest of us for drinks, he'd beg off. I figured it was just... work, 'cause he was always like that in the Academy. If I'd suspected for half a second that Ichimaru was treating him like that..." Looking sick, Renji shoved his plate away, clattering it into the serving dishes in the center of the table.

"It doesn't surprise me, really," Hitsugaya commented idly from the other side of the room, and all three of them swiveled in surprise to face him. Half-hidden behind a stack of paperwork - both his own and Matsumoto's - the young Captain was bolting down bites of stir-fry with his left hand while simultaneously filling out a report with his right. Ichigo and Renji took a moment to watch him work in something resembling awe; if they'd attempted such a feat of ambidextrous ambition, both of them would have ended up eating their paperwork, and they well knew it.

"Gin's mentality has never been what one could consider 'normal,' " Hitsugaya continued calmly, finishing the paper he'd been working on and shoving it aside to dry. "I imagine his feelings for Kira were somewhere between what one feels for a favorite toy and a small pet. Jealous possessiveness combined with an oddly genuine desire to see it well-cared for. That is why, when he finally resigned himself to the fact that Kira would no longer 'belong' to him, he was happy to see the Third, Kira included, turned over to Ichigo."

When Ichigo and Renji stared at him, disbelieving, he shrugged slightly without looking up. "Like I said, Gin's mentality isn't normal. I think the only person he ever truly cared for, or considered close to equal, is Matsumoto," Hitsugaya added calmly, waving his chopsticks towards the silent woman. Ichigo and Renji both glanced towards her and simultaneously winced at the automatic flash of guilt.

"Sorry, Matsumoto," Ichigo said, genuinely contrite. "I shouldn't have brought Gin up in front of you."

"It's all right," she answered softly, shaking her head and mustering a slightly damp smile. "I... I've always known what Gin is," she managed, but when he glanced down, Renji saw her fingers knotted so tightly into her napkin that her knuckles had gone white.

"Ah, crap, Ran," he muttered, and squeezed her shoulder in apology.

"No, Renji, don't worry about it." Mournful blue eyes blinked up at him, and he grimaced, feeling worse than ever.

"I know..." she paused, closed her eyes for a moment, and shook her head. "It doesn't matter what his intentions were, he should never have hurt Kira, especially not like that. Poor boy has such a pretty face..."

"Matsumoto, what did I tell you about drinking before the end of the workday?"

The three of them turned again to stare at Hitsugaya. His attention was still completely focused on his paperwork, his eating mechanical and steady, giving no indication that he'd spoken at all.

"Not to?" hazarded Rangiku, blinking at him.

"Correct," Hitsugaya answered coolly, setting his brush down long enough to shift the now-dry paper from earlier to his 'out' box. "So why are you drunk before the end of the workday?"

"I always drink during the workday. I didn't think you were serious."

"Of course I was serious!" he barked, and Ichigo and Renji just shook their heads.

"If we're disturbing you, Toushirou -"

"If you were disturbing me, I wouldn't have allowed Matsumoto to drag you two in here for lunch in the first place," he interrupted, not bothering to add the habitual 'it's Hitsugaya-taichou!'

"But I have friends over!" Matsumoto protested, sounding utterly bewildered. "I have to drink when I have lunch with friends!"

"Hey, leave us out of this," Renji snapped, waving a fresh cup of tea under her nose. "It's not an excuse if you're the only one at the table drinking, you know!"

"I am?" Looking genuinely surprised, Rangiku surveyed the table before her. It was true; Renji was drinking tea and Ichigo was alternating between tea and plain water.

"Yeah, you are," Renji answered, hiding his grin at her flabbergasted expression in his cup. "How's Kira doing, Ichigo?"

"From what Ayasegawa told me, fine. He and Shuuhei took off this morning, headed out to some house in the mountains or something?"

"Oh," Matsumoto said, sitting up in her chair and looking quite happy to have a change of subject. "I know about that place, it's part of his family's old estate."

"Estate?" Ichigo repeated a bit blankly. "What estate?"

"Kira's noble-born, you dumbass," Renji snorted, staring at his unfinished lunch for a moment before hauling his plate back in front of him and picking up his chopsticks again. "You keep forgetting, don't you?"

"Of course I keep forgetting, why the hell should it _matter_?" Ichigo snapped back, darting his own chopsticks across the table and snatching a piece of Renji's chicken in retaliation. "We do paperwork, we train the Squad, we talk, we go home. I don't give a damn whether he's the Spirit King or a Rukongai rat; he's my Lieutenant and my friend, and that's all there is to it. Nobility doesn't matter; loyalties do."

Under Renji's scarf, the necklace weighed heavier than ever against his throat, and for a moment he wished that Ichigo was right.

* * *

"Excuse me, Abarai-taichou?"

Renji blinked twice, realized he'd been staring at the same sheet of paper for almost three minutes without actually absorbing any of its content, and belatedly looked up at the face peering nervously through the half-open door of his office.

The man was young, a bit under Renji's own age, slim-built and nervous-looking, with round silver eyes behind round-lensed, silver-framed glasses. He was wearing a slightly dusty navy-blue kimono, and his utter lack of reiatsu or Zanpakutou made it clear he was not a Shinigami. His pale skin, refined features, and jet-black hair marked him as a noble - probably a Kuchiki.

"Can I help you?" Renji asked, when the man continued to hover uneasily in the doorway. "And you can come in, y'know."

"Thank you, Abarai-taichou," the man answered, grinning sheepishly. The guard escorting him rolled the door back the rest of the way, revealing the armload of archaic-looking books the young man was carrying, heavy enough to bow his back under their weight.

"Oh, for -" Standing up and shoving aside his paperwork, Renji quickly cleared a space on the desk that would accommodate the armload of texts. "Kid, get in here and put those down before you drop 'em all. Why are you draggin' around half a library anyway?"

"Oh..." Heaving the pile of books onto the desk, the young man huffed softly and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, leaving a smear of what appeared to be ink just under his hairline. "Well, Byakuya-sama asked that these archival pieces be brought down to you. These are journals of former clan Heads and a comprehensive history of the Kuchiki clan, and he wants you to read them within the next few days, if you can."

"He's leaving valuable historical pieces with me?" Renji repeated, mildly alarmed.

"Yes, but you needn't be concerned. Most of these are transcripts or scribe's copies of original documents, and all of them are quite heavily protected by preservation kidou, so you needn't worry about damaging them - ah, watch."

Dipping a finger into Renji's ink, he flicked the dark liquid casually across a sheaf of unprotected papers before Renji could stop him. Much to Renji's surprise, however, the ink merely beaded on the surface of the paper as it might on an oiled cloth. Looking oddly triumphant, the young man wiped the ink off with an already-spattered sleeve before grinning up at Renji. "Any questions?"

Renji stared at him for a long moment, ignoring the heap of ancient books and bound parchments on his desk, before finally managing to ask the first thing that came to mind; "Who are you, exactly?"

"Oh!" Startled, his visitor straightened with an almost audible snap and gave Renji a very deep, respectful bow. "My name is Kuchiki Fumio, Abarai-taichou. I'm a familial archivist for the personal history of the Kuchiki clan. I'm also, um," blushing brilliantly, the young man rubbed at the back of his head, mussing his already-untidy hair. "Kira Izuru and I were friends as children, sir, and we still speak occasionally. He speaks incredibly highly of you. It's a great honor to make your acquaintance, sir."

"You're a friend of Kira's?" Renji echoed, surprised and somewhat amused. "In that case," he added, walking around his desk to extend a hand to the young archivist, "it's a pleasure to meet ya, Fumio-san."

The young man beamed back at him as they shook hands, looking so ridiculously unlike what Renji knew of the Kuchiki Clan that Renji grinned back out of as much relief as good cheer, suddenly far less concerned about his entry into the family.

* * *

'_...and thus Kuchiki Tatsuo did take to him as Consort the Captain Okiayu, and together these two men would establish -'_

"I see Fumio-san has delivered the materials as I instructed," came the dry voice from the doorway, and Renji almost jumped out of his skin as he snapped his head up to look at Byakuya.

"Dammit, are you tryin' to give me a heart attack?" Renji snapped. When Byakuya raised his eyebrows, surprised at the reaction, Renji shook his head slightly and didn't bother to hide his laughter. "Sorry, sir - ah, Byakuya. I got kinda absorbed in the reading you sent down an' I didn't realize you were standin' there. Guess I wasn't paying attention."

"Clearly," Byakuya replied sardonically, but the minute quirk at the corner of his mouth told Renji that his former Captain was just as amused as Renji was. Slipping silently through the doorway, Byakuya crossed the office and settled himself gracefully in one of the chairs before Renji's desk. "Have you learned anything of interest?"

"This..." Renji turned the book he was holding around to face Byakuya and indicated the passage he'd been reading. "About Kuchiki Tatsuo and Okiayu-taichou. That's all true?"

"Yes. Theirs is the relationship on which I will base the precedence for our own," Byakuya answered levelly, and Renji looked up from the book to study Byakuya's face. Something about the way the other man was holding himself wasn't quite right. Serving under him, even for as short a time as he had, Renji had learned to see beyond the blankness of Byakuya's face. He knew, now, that there were a thousand shades of blankness Byakuya utilized at will; blankness to hide pain, anger, emotional turmoil, fear, even amusement.

And while the man was not - quite - an open book, he was at least a glimpse of a torn page. And right now, he was wearing his 'something is bothering me that I must hide' blankness, one that Renji had become painfully accustomed to during the weeks Byakuya was in the hospital after the Aizen Incident.

"What's wrong?"

"Why do you ask?" Byakuya replied, blinking once in what was his expression of astonishment.

"Don't try to pull that on me, Byakuya. I know you too well," Renji snapped, leveling his glare at the other man. "You're trying to hide something from me. What is it?"

When Byakuya's face only became blanker, Renji scowled across the desk until something occurred to him. "It's the Elders, isn't it?"

Byakuya's eyes widened fractionally, his head moving backwards a bare quarter of an inch, and that was utter shock, something that Renji hadn't seen since he unleashed his Bankai for the first time. "Don't look at me like that, ya know I'm not as dumb as I look. I asked Rukia about some a' what goes on in your Clan meetings, and she told me that -"

"They are pressuring me to marry."

Renji fell silent at the declaration. The words were flat, coldly emotionless, but it wasn't hard to read the anger behind them.

"I have stated, explicitly, that I will not marry again, and yet they continue to court 'suitable' females with the hopes that I will renege on my oath, betray Hisana's memory and the vows I made upon her death, to never love another woman."

"Byakuya..."

Blazing silver-grey eyes snapped up to meet Renji's gaze, finding the normally fierce garnet gentle. "Byakuya, I'm not a noble, so I'm never gonna understand this from an insider's view. But even a dog like me knows about love, an' loyalty, an' family. An' if you've got to... to bow to the Council and... marry again, I'll understand. I'll hate it, and them, but I'll still lo-"

A cool mouth silenced him, cutting off the agonized words with a swift and delightful efficiency. It was not the most wonderful kiss Renji had ever experienced; the edge of the desk was cutting into his stomach and he could still taste the words he's been speaking at the back of his mouth, acidic as bile, but it was _Byakuya's_ kiss, and that was enough. Surrendering to the inevitable, he closed his eyes and let the taste and feel of Byakuya sweep him away.

When Byakuya pulled back a moment later, Renji took a moment to collect his mental faculties. Comprehensible speech, of course, was the last function he managed to retrieve. "You did that on purpose," he managed, quite conscious of the fact he was entirely out of breath and sounded laughably like a damsel in a bad romance novel.

"Of course," Byakuya answered, face and voice still a study in blankness. "You were clearly delirious. It was the easiest means by which to restore your senses."

Renji gaped at him. Unbothered, Byakuya continued. "The very notion of my breaking the oath I made to you for the whims of my Council is beyond absurdity. Given our relationship, I will overlook that your consideration threatens to impugn my honor, but I trust it is a mistake you will not make again."

Renji stared at him for a moment longer before he abruptly realized that his mouth was open; shutting it with a snap, he looked more closely at Byakuya and finally realized there was a faint spark of amusement dancing behind the man's silver eyes.

"You _bastard_!" Renji exploded, a roar of laughter bursting out of him. "You're making _jokes_?"

"Indeed," Byakuya answered mildly, and the corners of his mouth shifted upwards ever-so-slightly. "I am surprised you did not catch on a bit sooner, actually."

"I'm not used to you having a sense of humor, dammit!" Renji laughed, shaking his head as Byakuya almost smiled, and he stared across the desk with an overwhelming sense of wonder at how far he'd come.

* * *

Half an hour later, Renji and Byakuya had moved from Renji's desk to the table set under the window, and were quietly sharing tea as they watched the junior officers of the Fifth drilling in the courtyard, under the snapping presence of Renji's sixth seat.

"They have improved," Byakuya remarked idly, watching the line follow the shouted instructions at a rapid pace, forward-strike-block-left-parry-back, and amazingly, all of them were keeping time.

Renji glanced along the line of officers until he found Yahi, his hair tied back and sweat dripping off his forehead, his eyes intent as he followed the drill, probably the most dedicated person out there.

"Yeah," he answered softly, "they have."

"You've done remarkable work with them."

"Not me," Renji answered, taking a sip of his tea and setting the cup down. "It's them. They've turned themselves around so fast, you'd never know it's the same bunch as a week ago. They are the _best_ damn Squad in the Gotei, and I intend to make sure everyone knows it."

Byakuya's mouth twitched slightly as he shifted his gaze from the drilling officers outside to the man across the table.

"Regardless of their measure, Renji, without the proper leadership and guidance, even the greatest warriors in the world will never reach their potential," he answered calmly, nodding across the office at Hinamori's still-empty chair. "It is your passion, your dedication, and your drive that have inspired those officers to change themselves so rapidly and so much for the better."

Renji turned his head to stare at Byakuya, struck speechless for the second time in an hour, and the Kuchiki scion allowed himself a faint smile.

"Renji, although you were correct earlier that I was teasing you, every word I spoke was an honest one," he admitted softly. "No matter the whims or demands of the Council, I will not renounce you. That is why I wish you to accompany me to the Clan Council meeting the week after our bonding ceremony, so that I may formally present you to the Elders."

Stunned, Renji could manage only a whispered "Byakuya... thank you."

"You need not thank me, Renji," came the steady reply. "Much like your officers, I find that you force me to improve myself, for which you have my gratitude." There was a decided pause, and Byakuya lowered his head slightly, one hand toying with his empty cup.

Recovering himself somewhat, Renji arched an eyebrow. "Somethin' else, Byakuya?"

"There is... one other matter, yes. The style in which you had your hair arranged, last night at the meeting..."

"What about it?" Renji prodded when Byakuya trailed off, not meeting his former Lieutenant's eyes.

"I... found it quite pleasing..." came the slow answer, so quiet that Renji could barely hear it. He did, though, and could only stare at the other man for a long moment before letting out a sharp bark of laughter. "Shit, Byakuya," he chuckled, reaching up to unfasten the tie holding his ponytail in place and let the crimson mane spill over his shoulders, "if ya wanted me to change my hairstyle, all ya had to do was ask."

Silver eyes smiled back at him, and Renji laughed again, because, whether he realized it or not, Byakuya was inspiring him to change as well.

* * *

_The nephew and adopted son of Kuchiki Tatsuo, Kuchiki Isamu, was trained in the noble arts of the Shinigami, for which he displayed prodigious talent. He rose most swiftly to the rank of Captain and henceforth became the first member of the Kuchiki Clan to lead the distinguished Sixth Division of the Thirteen Gotei Squads. From the time of his instillation in this position, the honorable Sixth has always been Captained by a leading member of the Kuchiki Clan, making it -_

Sighing, Renji lifted his head and rubbed wearily at his eyes. Although the script of the transcribed journal was a perfect, calligraphic hand, the characters were painfully small, and he had been straining his eyes in the lantern-light for the past three hours. He was, however, beginning to understand why Byakuya had wanted him to read these ancient texts.

"Best defense is a good offense," Renji mumbled to himself, carefully closing the volume and setting it aside. He'd taken the rest of the documentation back to his quarters earlier, where they were likely to be a bit safer than in his well-traveled office.

Rising slowly from his chair, Renji winced at the pop in his back and arched up, stretching the kinks out of his stiffened muscles. He was not a man designed for a sedentary position, and he damn well knew it.

Still... if leading his Squad required six hours a day at a desk, so be it. They were well worth it.

Sighing, he shuffled the piles of paperwork on his desk into neat stacks, dropping the completed pieces into his outbox, pushing anything he had to deal with later - personnel evaluations were coming due, which were going to be a pain without Hinamori's help - off to one side.

He had his back to the door when the soft knock sounded.

"Yeah," he called carelessly, not bothering to turn. Some of the couriers ran late, and it wouldn't have been the first time he'd had paperwork handed off just as he was leaving for bed. When he didn't hear the usual, brusque 'Delivery, Abarai-taichou,' though, he turned to see just who it was coming into his office in the middle of the night -

And froze.

She looked the way she had a decade ago, long before Aizen's betrayal and the damned War, a little girl with her heart in her eyes and steel in her spine. Whatever twisted madness had seized her in the past months was gone now; looking at her, he could see the old fire of intelligence and courage in her eyes.

"Momo," he said softly, and she nodded as she stepped into the office and slid the door shut behind her.

"Abarai-taichou... Renji," she nodded, her eyes serious and her voice steady. "I need to speak to you, if you have a moment."

He'd been up since dawn, and it was now nearly midnight, but Renji was not the type of person to refuse an officer, or a friend. "Of course, Momo. You know I've always got time for you," he answered, and pulled up a chair.


	21. Truth and Premonition

Hey, everybody! This chapter is the longest one to date - almost 7k words, (Gods! This story has completely run away on me...) so I hope you've got a few minutes to spare, XD. Couple of favorite characters returning this week and some changes being made, so I hope you enjoy!

Translator's Notes:

Izaname: In Japanese myth, the wife of Izanagi. Her name means 'female who invites.'

Minori: unisex Japanese name meaning 'truth.'

*While Byakuya's wristguards are properly referred to as 'tekkou,' I went with the laymen's term in the story simply for the sake of those who do not read the top Notes.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 20: Truth and Premonition

"Are you sure about this, Momo?" Hitsugaya asked, two days later. It was not the first time the question had been asked over the past days - or even the past hours - nor was it the first time that Momo responded with a decisive nod, eyes determined and face steady.

"I'm certain, Toushirou," she answered, her voice calm. "I need to be... away from the Gotei for a while, I think. My mind is much clearer when I'm not trying to think in terms of command and combat. I was never really suited to be a soldier anyway, you know that."

"Oh, I'm not so sure," Renji offered, grinning lightly as he settled one big hand on her thin shoulder. "During that training exercise to the Living World, you were the only member of the class that didn't run, remember?"

"And you think so well on your feet under stress," Matsumoto added, grinning as she leaned forward to wink at the girl.

"A-ah," Hinamori stammered, blushing brilliantly in the face of her friend's praise. "I'm not that impressive, really. I'm just good with kidou -"

"Which is why it will be an honor to have Hinamori-san amongst our ranks," Tsukabishi Tessai announced solemnly, striding up the grassy hill with his blue robes billowing impressively around him.

When Urahara had returned to the Seireitei to resume his former position as Captain of the Twelfth, Tessai had returned as well, to take back his position as head of the Kidou Corps. It had been Tessai that Renji had contacted when Hinamori told him, tears pouring down her face, that she couldn't stay a part of the Gotei Squads any longer, that the memories were simply too painful. Tessai - who knew about some of Momo's extraordinary skills with kidou - had been overjoyed to offer her a position in the Corps. It would be a non-combat, non-command position, which would allow Momo to simply focus on _kidou_, and not traitorous Captains and violent deaths.

She'd cried with relief when Renji told her that the Corps would accept her, and in the end she'd sobbed onto Renji's shoulder as he awkwardly patted her back, mumbling nonsense and wishing he knew how to deal with crying women.

The transfer had been arranged with a speed that left Renji's head spinning; he thought the Soutaichou might have had something to do with it, because the mountains of paperwork that accompanied such a move were somehow completed except for Renji's stamp before they ever reached his desk. He'd signed off on it with a sense of exhausted relief, sorry to be losing his friend and Lieutenant to the reclusive Corps but knowing full well it was the best solution for everyone involved.

And now, two days later, Renji, Matsumoto, and Hitsugaya were here, standing just outside the Seireitei as they bid goodbye to their friend.

"Tessai," Hitsugaya said, somehow managing to look down on a man who was half again his own height, "you will be taking the best possible care of Hinamori, is that understood?"

"Of course, Hitsugaya-dono," Tessai answered, bowing deeply. "Hinamori-san will be a credit to the ranks of the Kidou Corps. We will be certain to treat her as such."

"Ah, Shirou-chan is worried about me?" Momo grinned, ruffling his silver hair teasingly. When he stood stock-still under her hand, though, she snatched it back as though she'd been burned, worry seeping into her eyes.

"I... I'm sorry, Hitsugaya-tai- eep!"

Much to everyone's surprise, Hitsugaya had swept the girl into a crushing hug, pressing his face into her shoulder and holding on to her as though he never wanted to let go.

For a moment, Momo stood stock-still, frozen in shock, before a faint, sad smile bloomed across her face and she brought her arms up to return the young Captain's embrace.

"Take care of yourself, Momo. Promise me that," he whispered against her ear, and she nodded, pressing her own face against his hair.

"I promise, Toushirou. I promise."

Very slowly, the two parted, both blushing slightly and neither quite meeting the other's eyes.

"Goodbye, Momo," he said softly, and Momo startled them all by laughing, a bright, silvery sound that none of them had heard in years.

"Don't be silly, Toushirou. It's never goodbye for us - just a 'see you later.' " Leaning forward, she placed a delicate kiss on his mouth, shocking the young Captain into stillness as she turned away.

She and Tessai offered one another polite bows, before Tessai made a wordless 'shall we go?' gesture. And, one last time that morning, Momo answered with a single, decisive nod.

She only glanced back for a split-second before the two of them vanished into Flashstep, the breeze of their passing stirring the hair and clothes of the three who silently watched them go.

* * *

"She'll be okay, Hitsugaya. She's a tough kid," Renji said softly, a few minutes later. Hitsugaya was still standing where Hinamori had left him, a gobsmacked expression on his face.

"Taichou?" Matsumoto leaned over Hitsugaya's head to peer at him upside-down, consequently enfolding the back of his head in her voluminous breasts. Hitsugaya came back to awareness with an indignant squawk, leaping away from his overly-affectionate fukutaichou and rubbing furiously at the back of his head.

"Matsumoto, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

"Sorry, Captain," Matsumoto giggled, clearly not sorry at all. "But how else was I supposed to wake you up?"

"What do you mean, wake me up?" Hitsugaya huffed, folding his arms across his chest and glowering. "I can assure you I'm not in the habit of falling asleep on my feet."

"Y'zoned out a bit, sir," Renji offered, fighting to keep a grin from splitting his face and not quite succeeding. "Not expecting Momo to do that, were you?"

"_Oh_!" Matsumoto's gasp hit a high note that bats would have envied; Renji winced and stuck his finger in his ear as Hitsugaya gritted his teeth. "Captain! That was your first kiss!"

Regardless of how right she was, it was hardly the sort of comment he was going to dignify with a response. "There is work to be done back in the office, Matsumoto. And I expect you to manage your share from this point onwards," he snapped, pointing sharply back towards the Seireitei. "You'd best get a move on."

"But Captain, your first kiss! This is a cause for celebra -"

"Get MOVING, Matsumoto! And you, Abarai!"

Still grinning ear-to-ear, Renji snapped off a salute and turned back towards the city, grabbing Matsumoto's elbow as he did. "Come on, Ran, you heard him."

"But - but - but! It was his _first kiss_!"

"And you got to see it, aren't you lucky?" Renji grinned. Rangiku giggled madly, and both of them were laughing when something cold hit the backs of their heads and exploded.

"What the hell?" Renji snapped, as Rangiku put a hand over the back of her head in astonishment, only to bring it back a second later, covered in -

...snow?

_Snow_?

She and Renji both stared at the icy-white crystals coating her palm for a moment before turning as one to face Hitsugaya, incredulity written across both their faces.

The young Captain slid the few inches of Hyorinmaru he'd drawn back into his sheath, smirked at the pair of them, and vanished into Flashstep.

They exchanged bewildered glances, grinned, and gave chase.

* * *

Renji found himself out of breath within a few minutes - as small as he was, Hitsugaya was friggin' _fast_. At least as fast as Kuchiki-taichou, although Renji would certainly never suggest that within the noble's hearing. However, he could still hear Matsumoto, half a step behind him and more out of breath than he was, and hung on to that fragile thread of dignity as he continued to chase a kid in a Captain's haori across half of Seireitei because said child had chucked a snowball at his head.

Oh, the hell with dignity. He'd just gotten dragged into playing a game of Flash Tag with _Captain Hitsugaya,_ of all people - Renji could feel his brain implode slightly just trying to string the words 'play' and 'Hitsugaya' in the same sentence - but he knew the game from Byakuya's stories. Touch his haori and win.

He threw an extra surge of power into his footsteps, leaping after Hitsugaya just as they came upon the barracks of the Ninth. The young Captain glanced back over his shoulder, eyes wide as he saw Renji touch down just out of arm's reach -

- and smirked.

And then he leapt away again, and Renji had to twist himself sideways in midstep to avoid colliding at full speed with Hisagi, who was standing outside the gateway of the barracks wall. Renji hadn't noticed him a second before, too focused on Hitsugaya and the all-encompassing ice-and-wintergreen scent of Hitsugaya's reiatsu that had prevented him from sensing his old friend.

Renji stumbled to a stop just as Matsumoto landed, struggling to kill her own forward momentum. Her rapid backpedaling would likely have landed her squarely on her backside if Hisagi hadn't seized her arm at the last moment, his expression sharp.

"Where's the emergency?" he demanded as soon as Renji and Rangiku had their feet under them.

"And why were you two chasing Captain Hitsugaya? And... why in the three worlds is your hair all wet?" Yumichika added, eyebrows arched, as he stepped out the open gateway to greet his Captain.

"No emergency," Renji panted, before drawing in a couple of deep, slow breaths. "And our hair is wet because the snow melted."

"Snow," Hisagi echoed, mildly incredulous, and Yumichika somehow managed to sparkle _suspiciously_ at the pair of them, which would have been the weirdest thing Renji had ever seen if the past week hadn't happened. Renji sighed faintly, rubbing the back of his head and grimacing at his wet hair. How he was supposed to explain this without sounding like he'd completely lost his mind... "Hitsugaya threw snowballs at our heads..."

"...because Hinamori gave him his first kiss as a going-away present and we were teasing him," Matsumoto filled in, and Shuuhei's expression went from incredulous confusion to mild alarm, probably believing that _both_ of his friends had gone entirely off the deep end.

"That's sweet," Yumichika cooed, not doubting them for a moment, and sparkling cheerfully at the pair in what passed for normal, in relation to Yumichika at least.

"What going-away present?" Hisagi demanded, ignoring his twinkling Lieutenant for a moment and focusing his attention on his out-of-breath, wet-haired friends.

"Momo transferred to the Kidou Corps this morning. You didn't know?" Renji countered, glancing between the Yumi and Hisagi in surprise.

Shuuhei, in response, turned slightly sideways so that Renji could see the battered duffle bag still slung across his back. "I only got back a few minutes ago. I hadn't even made it through the gates before you two tried to bulldoze me."

"Sorry 'bout that," Renji muttered as Matsumoto giggled, but Hisagi shook his head slightly in response.

"Don't worry about it. What are you doing for a Lieutenant, with Hinamori gone?"

Renji shook his head slightly. He hadn't had time to think of finding a new candidate in the midst of handling the accelerated transfer, and it seemed callous to hand off her job the same day Hinamori left it. Unfortunately, the paperwork was stacking up on Renji's desk, and he and his seated officers were scrambling to complete evaluations as well as their newly-enhanced training schedule.

"Need to find one," he answered with a shrug. "I haven't had time to start screening candidates yet, though."

"What kind of candidate are you looking for?" Shuuhei asked, his eyes suddenly intense, and Renji blinked, pausing to consider his needs.

"I can get the paperwork under control with a little bit of help," he answered finally. "What I really need is someone who can help with the Squad's training and morale. They're improvin', and pretty damned quick, but I can't be in two places at once. If I'm gonna do paperwork, someone else has gotta be puttin' the Squad through their paces, and vice-versa. Why?" he added as an afterthought, watching Yumichika and Shuuhei's eyes light up with some suspicion. "Who do you two have in mind?"

"Ayasegawa, grab the file on -"

"Already ahead of you, Captain!" Yumichika chirruped back, halfway to the offices by the time he finished his sentence. He came back a minute later, carrying a folder that Renji recognized immediately as a personnel file - it matched the forty cluttering up the corner of his desk.

"Here you are, Abarai-taichou," Yumichika chirped, passing the file over with a little bow. He'd stopped sparkling for the moment, which was just as well for Renji's aching brain - although hearing his former superior call him 'Taichou' was still bizarre on multiple levels.

"Take a look," Shuuhei said, nodding towards the folder in Renji's hand. Glancing down at it, he read the name scrawled across the file tab and blinked in confusion.

"Ise Minori?"

"Our sixth seat," Hisagi informed him, nodding. "She's probably not up to Lieutenant's level by most estimations, but she's willing to learn and she's a good trainer."

"Related to Ise-fukutaichou down at the Eighth?" Renji asked, flipping open the folder to glance at her picture. The face was lean and a plain, brown-haired and hazel-eyed, and there was no resemblance to Ise Nanao that he could see.

"Yeah," Shuuhei answered with a casual shrug. "They're half-sisters, I think? Different fathers."

Realization hit Renji with the force of a fist to the gut. Nanao's jet-black hair and lavender-blue eyes, her delicate build and those pale, refined features, the markings of the elite that he saw in Byakuya every damned day, and he'd never realized...

"_Shit_," Renji said with some feeling, nearly dropping the folder in shock.

"Renji?" Matsumoto asked, just as Shuuhei said "Kohai?" and Yumichika tilted his head, inquisitiveness writing itself across his features.

"Sorry. Nothing. Just realized somethin' is all," he answered a bit too hastily. "Look, Ran, you're goin' past the Fifth on your way back, right?"

"Well of course I am, it's -"

"Good, good," Renji interrupted, pressing the file into her hands. "Drop that on my desk for me, would you? I want to review it later, but I just remembered something I need to discuss with Byakuya."

"Sure, but -"

Renji was gone before she could finish the sentence.

Bewildered, the three of them stared after him until Yumichika blinked in startled realization. "Since when has Renji called Kuchiki-taichou 'Byakuya'?"

* * *

"Ise Nanao," Renji said flatly, standing in the open door of Byakuya's office. He'd opened it without knocking, and foregone greeting the other man in lieu of announcing his epiphany.

Byakuya had raised his head at Renji's entrance, annoyance writing itself across his brow as he prepared to verbally flay whomever had elected to disturb his peace. The simple statement of his bastard half-sister's name, however, had silenced him before the words could form.

"Come in, Renji, and close the door" Byakuya ordered quietly, after a long moment of stunned silence, and Renji did so without a word.

"Who told you?" came the soft question, and Renji shook his head slightly, sitting down on the edge of his old, empty desk.

"Nobody. Shuuhei wants me to take Nanao's half-sister as my Lieutenant. When I asked if they were related, he said they had different fathers. It hit me then how much Nanao looks like you."

Changeable eyes, gone pewter-grey with anxiety, stared levelly at him for a long moment before dropping. "I was not aware that Ise Izaname had borne another child," Byakuya admitted, after another painfully long silence.

"You'd never guess they're related; they look nothing alike," Renji answered, managing a weary smile. He let it fade quickly, though, to ask his next question. "Does Nanao know?"

"Ise Nanao is... aware of her parentage, yes," came the slow reply, and Renji shook his head, mouth curling in disgust.

"Shit. It's like _that_, isn't it?" he muttered, hands tightening against the edges of his desk. Byakuya lifted his eyes again, regarding his former Lieutenant with a steady gaze.

"I am not certain what you mean, Renji."

"Those damned Elders of yours - they told her that she's something to be ashamed of, some... blot on the family tree and that she should never mention the fact her father is a noble, right?"

The vehemence in Renji's tone took Byakuya back a bit, but he answered anyway. "My Grandfather ensured that Ise Nanao received an education benefiting the child of a noble and placement within the Gotei squads. That is more than many patriarchs of noble families would have done for the benefit of their bastards -"

"Yeah? And tell me I'm wrong when I say those Elders of yours still treat her like a wart on their backside, and have been since she was born!"

"I would not couch it in those precise terms -"

"You don't have to, I just did!"

"...however, it is an unfortunately apt analogy," Byakuya finished over Renji's interjection, sighing slightly. "The Clan Elders are not forgiving of disobedience in anyone beneath their purview, and our father's disobedience reflects poorly on those who were affected by it."

"It shouldn't," Renji said, and his voice was so fierce that Byakuya looked up at him, startled again. Shaking his head sharply, Renji continued, shoving himself off the desk to pace the familiar floor. "You were just a kid when your father betrayed you. It was something you had no control over, no choice in, and yet you've been spending your entire life trying to make up for the fact that he was a treasonous piece of scum -"

"Renji!"

"He _hurt you_, Byakuya!" the redhead nearly shouted, spinning on the affronted noble with his fists clenched. "That makes him scum! And those damned Elders of yours are _worse_ than scum, because they've been blaming Nanao for something she had less than no control over - she couldn't choose who her father was any more than you could have controlled his actions, and yet here the two of you are, carrying the blame and the guilt for something that _isn't your fault_!"

When Byakuya could only stare at him, stunned speechless and still, Renji winced and sat back on his desk with a thump.

"I'm sorry, sir, I shouldn't have presumed to -"

"Do not..." Byakuya's voice was hesitant and strained, and Renji ducked his head, flinching away from the censure.

"Do not apologize, Renji," Byakuya whispered, lowering his head, and his voice was shaking. "Not for being the only person to so boldly speak the truth to me in over two hundred years."

"Sir?"

"You are correct," Byakuya said, his voice struggling to find its usual calm and nearly succeeding. "My father's actions were... beyond the scope of my control, and neither Ise Nanao nor I should bear blame for his actions." Not raising his head, he plucked at the edges of his wristguards, pale fingers against pale fabric, and Renji wondered for a moment how upset Byakuya must be if he was actually displaying a nervous habit. "Ise Nanao and I are not to blame for our father's actions," he repeated, his voice still not quite level, but the tone of it was lighter, less burdened than it had ever been.

"No," Renji answered, his own voice weary but clear. "You two aren't to blame, Byakuya. You never were."

They sat in silence for a long moment, Renji watching Byakuya as Byakuya stared at his desk without seeing it, his mind still struggling with the revelation that Renji had just presented him. He continued to toy with the edges of his wristguards while he thought, and Renji noticed with painful sorrow that the elegant hands were shaking.

Silently, he slid off the edge of the desk again, retreating to the corner of the office where a small table stood, neatly cluttered with tea-making supplies. He spent a few minutes puttering about, heating water and measuring tea, and when he set a cup of tea down in front of Byakuya, the Kuchiki scion had recovered himself enough to pick it up and sip cautiously at the still-hot liquid.

"Thank you, Renji," he said simply, and it was clear enough that he was not referring only to the tea.

"Glad I could help, sir," Renji answered, grinning fiercely back at him so that Byakuya understood he meant every word. They drank their tea in silence, but it was not an oppressive, fractured silence like its predecessor; rather, it was the comfortable silence of two people who are utterly at ease in one another's company.

Byakuya was the one to break it, finally settling his cup back on the desk and leveling his gaze on Renji.

"It grieves me to admit that I have resented Ise Nanao for many years because of what she represents," he said softly, settling his hands on the desk and stilling them by sheer force of will. "I do not know how I might begin to repent for my attitude towards her."

His mouth pursed in thought, Renji looked over Byakuya's shoulder at the engagement calender hanging on the wall behind the Captain's desk. "The Kuchiki family hosts some kinda... festival thing every year 'round this time, don't you?"

"There is an informal interfamily gathering of the noble clans of the Seireitei at the beginning of the summer every year, hosted at the Kuchiki estate. It is not a festival, although it may appear that way to some."

"Kyouraku attends that, doesn't he?" There was no reason the man shouldn't - a chance to raid the Kuchiki's wine cellars, reputed to be some of the most impressive in the Seireitei, would hardly be passed up by the sake-loving Captain of the Eighth, and his noble birth - not as high as Byakuya's, but quite high enough - would ensure his entry.

"Yes. Both Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou attend yearly, Jyuushiro-senpai's health permitting. Why?"

"Are th' attendees allowed to bring dates?" Renji pressed, and Byakuya blinked, catching on.

"They are. Ukitake and Kyouraku have attended as a couple for the length of my memory, but both may enter in their own right. You are suggesting having Kyouraku-taichou bring Ise Nanao as his companion?"

"Not me," Renji corrected, "you. If the suggestion came from you, it might help show her that you're tryin' to change your attitude," Renji offered mildly. "An' it would be a good way for her to see some of the inner workings of the Clans an' noble families without havin' to dump her into it face-first. Kinda an apology an' a welcome, all in one."

"It is an exceptionally well-reasoned and thoughtful suggestion," Byakuya answered, reaching for a sheet of the heavy parchment he kept for writing formal letters. "I will discuss it with Kyouraku-taichou immediately."

"Good," Renji answered feelingly.. "I think you an' she both need it." He set his cup down on the corner of his desk out of sheer habit, watching Byakuya hesitantly. "I'd better get back to my Squad, I've got a Lieutenant's seat to fill," he explained awkwardly, and received an absent nod in reply.

"Please come to the mansion after work," Byakuya said simply, already immersed in his letter. "My personal tailor will be there, and you must be fitted for formal kimono."

Groaning theatrically, Renji slid off the desk and headed out, shutting the door behind him. The fact that he had his back to Byakuya meant that he missed the other man's tiny smile.

* * *

The sound of the door sliding open pulled Ichigo's attention away from his paperwork; grateful for the distraction, he lifted his gaze to the doorway and blinked in surprise.

"Morning, sir," said the blond man in the doorway, bright blue eyes smiling, and Ichigo stared in astonishment.

"_Kira_?" he managed, after a second of gape-mouthed disbelief, and his Lieutenant smiled back at him, looking supremely content and exceptionally different from the man who had left the office three days ago. "You cut your hair?"

"Shuuhei cut my hair, this morning. I haven't had a chance to look at it yet."

The long bangs that had hidden half of Kira's face were gone; two neat side-locks framed the delicate bones of his face, not quite long enough to brush his jaw, and the rest of it was brushed back, falling just short of his collar in a neat wave, the painfully styled points no longer in sight. The changes, though minor, made an astonishing difference - Kira looked years younger, his eyes brighter, a constant smile playing on the edges of his mouth.

"It looks good," Ichigo managed, finally snapping his mouth shut. "Your days off were okay?"

Kira's smile widened slightly in response and a flush of color touched his cheeks, which, Ichigo realized, was really all the answer he needed.

"On second thought, don't tell me. I think I can guess. Personnel evaluations for the lower seats are on your desk, and I've been working through the unseated officers."

"Yes, sir," Kira answered quickly, moving across the room to sit down and pull the first folder towards himself. He had made it to the second page of the assessment before he raised his head again, looking faintly guilty. "Sir, is it true that Hinamori transferred to the Kidou Corps?"

Ichigo paused in his own writing to glance up at his Lieutenant. "Yeah. She showed back up around midnight the same day you and Shuuhei left. She and Renji had a long talk, and she said that she couldn't stay in the Gotei, so he arranged the transfer for her. She was supposed to leave this morning."

"She did," Kira answered, sadness twisting his mouth into a familiar line. "I bumped into Rangiku-san on my way back here; she said they'd just seen Hinamori off. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to see her before she left."

"It was kind of a rushed transfer, I think," Ichigo answered with a mild frown, glaring down at the files in front of him. "You knew Hinamori?"

"For decades," Kira answered, sounding mildly startled. It was easy, sometimes, to forget just how much Ichigo didn't know about the Seireitei and the people within it. "She, Renji and I were in the same class at the Academy. We were assigned as teammates during the practice session in the Living World that gave Hisagi his scars," he added musingly, gaze and attention drifting off towards nowhere in particular.

"Is that when you met him?"

"Met... sorry, what?" Kira asked, blinking himself back to the present. Across the room, Ichigo stared at him with weary patience, waiting calmly for Kira to collect his thoughts.

"Hisagi. Is that when you met him? That assignment?"

An odd expression twitched across Kira's face - half smile, half grimace - and he nodded slightly. "Yes. It was supposed to be a simple Academy training mission, but we were attacked by Hollows - Aizen's early prototypes, we know now. Hisagi lost his eye in the attack. I visited him in the hospital for a week afterward, and we... well, I think Renji explained what happened after - oh. You have a message, sir."

The abrupt change of subject caught Ichigo a bit off-guard, until he looked up to find the Hell Butterfly fluttering patiently a foot above his head, waiting to be acknowledged. Sighing in exasperation, Ichigo raised his hand to the delicate insect, allowing it to light on his finger and transmit its message.

'_Kurosaki-san, please report to the Twelfth Division immediately, there is a communication for you that requires your immediate attention,' _ came Urahara's familiar voice, the cadence of it oddly quick and sharp. That, combined with the fact that he'd used the word 'immediate' twice in one sentence had Ichigo out of his seat in the space of a breath.

"Sir?"

"I'm needed at the Twelfth," Ichigo answered over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.

* * *

"Urahara, what the hell?" Ichigo demanded, shoving his way past a protesting Twelfth-squad member and into the large communications room. One entire wall of the small chamber was dominated by what would have resembled a movie screen, had it not been surrounded by a pulsating, bruise-purple frame that looked like it was composed of flesh. On the screen, Shinji was standing, arms akimbo, the fingers of one hand drumming a restless rhythm on his opposite elbow. He dropped the constrained pose as soon as Ichigo stepped into the screen's range, his entire body vibrating with tense urgency as he leaned forward.

"Ichigo, what the hell did you do with Ichimaru?"

"What do you mean, what did I do with him? We talked. I left."

"And...?"

"And I punched him. Once, in the stomach. Why?"

"Because he's gone," Shinji answered irritably. "And I don't mean that in the euphemistic sense, either; the bastard walked out on us."

"That's impossible," Urahara spoke up, an unusual frown creasing his features as he tapped his folded fan restlessly against the side of his arm. "The kidou collar I placed on him prevents him from leaving the grounds of the Shoten unless one of you or a member of my group is with him."

Shinji's eyebrows scrunched together as he turned to regard the scientist. "Kisuke, what the hell are you talking about? What collar?"

Urahara froze in mid-tap, going so still that even Ichigo turned to face him in confusion.

"Hirako-san... please tell me you did not just say 'what collar?'," Urahara said, his voice barely above a strained whisper. "Gin should be wearing a woven silk cord around his neck, the thickness of my little finger, tied in a loose knot and reinforced with kidou."

"Maybe he was wearing that the first day we were here," Shinji answered with a shrug. "But I was busy trying to corral Mashiro and Lisa, so I don't really remember. He hasn't been wearing it since."

Urahara swore, startling everyone in the vicinity, and wheeled away from the screen to start snapping orders. Ichigo, standing off to one side, watched in amazement as the sleepy, rumpled man who had trained him vanished under the face of a Gotei Captain.

"Hiyosu, pull up the tracking programs in Karakura. Gin was neutralized, but he may still emit a traceable signal. Rin, help him. Nemu, Akon, review the scans on Gin's neutralization. If we missed _anything_, I need to know it. There is no way he should have been able to remove that collar on his own. Stay in communication with me via the uplinks. Shinji, contact Ichigo's friends in Karakura and have them help us search, if they can. Doda and Litu, have the Senkaimon opened," he finished, sending the two little aides running. Urahara stopped long enough to seize a cellphone and headset off one of the cluttered shelves next to the monitor before turning to follow them.

"And send a message to the Third Division," Ichigo snapped, already halfway out the door, ready to follow the aides. "Tell Lieutenant Kira I'm headed to the Living World on an emergency and I'll be back soon."

"No, Ichigo," Urahara answered sharply, busy fixing the headset over his ear. "Gin was placed under my purview, and he is therefore my responsibility. You should remain here."

"And leave him running lose around my home town? You've forgotten who you're talking to, Kisuke."

Grey eyes blinked at him, closed-off and mysterious even without the shadow of the striped hat. "I suppose I had," he admitted after a long moment, and turned back to retrieve another cellphone and headset for the younger man. "Let's go, then."

* * *

Air rushed by him, ruffling his hair and shihakusho as he leaped across the rooftops of Karakura town. Puffing out an exasperated breath, Ichigo dropped to a halt, balanced carefully on the top of a utility pole. Crouching down - as much for balance as anything else - Ichigo drew a deep, careful breath and closed his eyes. Sensing reiatsu had gotten easier for him, but it was never going to be his greatest skill, and Gin, of course, had very little reiatsu to sense. Still, if he could even get a general idea -

"Oy, Ichi-nii!"

"Gah!" Grabbing the top of the pole with both hands, Ichigo teetered awkwardly for a second before he regained his balance. Glaring down the length of the pole, he wasn't particularly surprised to find his sister Karin glowering up at him, soccer ball tucked under one arm. "Are you trying to scare me to death, Karin?"

"Says the guy running around town as a Death God," Karin countered sourly, looking like she was contemplating kicking the soccer ball at his head. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd done so; quite frankly, Ichigo considered her more dangerous than their father. "I didn't think you were coming back for a visit until this weekend."

Grimacing, Ichigo acknowledged the vague sense of guilt he'd been feeling since he arrived. He'd been too busy frantically searching the city for any sight of the silver-haired fox to look in on his family; Ishida, who was still patrolling Karakura regularly, had checked them immediately and called Ichigo to assure him that they were fine.

It was somewhat galling, being back in his own city and not being able to visit his home. He hadn't taken been able to see his family while he'd been training in the Seireitei, although he'd been granted weekends off to come see his family as a Captain. This coming weekend was supposed to be his first visit back home.

"I'm not," he answered honestly, allowing note of genuine apology to creep into his voice. "I was called back here on an emergency."

"Does it have anything to do with that weird friend of yours?" Karin asked, rolling the ball out from under her arm and casually starting to bounce it from knee to knee.

"Which weird friend?" Ichigo asked, instantly wary, and Karin shrugged, never losing the rhythm of her bouncing.

"The one that looks like an albino fox," she answered casually, ignoring Ichigo's immediate curses. "He said I should tell you he was waiting over there-" she pointed down the road, in the general direction of a series of decrepit apartment buildings, "when you showed up."

"Karin, he is not a friend of mine! He's dangerous and you need to stay away from - HEY!" Ichigo nearly toppled off the pole as he ducked the ball his sister had just kicked at his head. "What the hell, Karin?"

"Hollows are dangerous, too, Ichi-nii, but with you and every other competent Shinigami out mopping up the Soul Society, your friends and I are the ones playing cleanup here," she snapped, looking past him in an attempt to judge where the ball had landed. "You can't protect everyone at once, so trust us to do what we have to in your absence."

"Karin, you are too damned young to be fighting Hollows!"

"I'm thirteen and a half, Ichi-nii. You weren't even two years older than me when you started. And at least I'm not getting myself killed by a mad scientist and running off to other dimensions to save my _girlfriend_," she added, glowering up at him. Ichigo's automatic retort of 'she's not my girlfriend!' died a swift death in his throat when he recalled that no, Rukia was not his girlfriend, she was his _fiancee_, which was worse, because his family had not been informed of _that_ little development just yet. His father's reaction was going to be... excessive.

Groaning, he retrieved Karin's ball from a nearby rooftop and tossed it back to her with an admonishment not to talk to strangers - or Hollows - and set off down the road, leaping along the tops of the utility poles, wondering what the hell kind of game Ichimaru was playing this time.

Considering that nearly a dozen people had been out searching the entirety of Karakura town for the last hour, it was a bit of an anticlimax when Gin, watching the road from a rooftop, spotted Ichigo and waved until he caught the young Shinigami's attention.

Sighing faintly, Ichigo opened the line of his phone and carefully adjusted the headset on his ear. "Found him."

"What's his condition? Do you need assistance?" Urahara's voice came back immediately. Undoubtedly he'd already tracked down the location through the phone, and was prepared to send everyone else running in to play cavalry. Ichigo leaped again, alighted on the edge of the roof Gin had waved from, and glanced down at the former Shinigami, lounging casually against the low wall and gazing at the building opposite.

"He's fine, and no, I don't think so. I'll get him back to the Shoten," Ichigo said tersely, and closed the line before Urahara could ask anything else.

"Ichimaru!"

"Heya, Ichi-kun," came the lackadaisical response, accompanied by a lazy wave. "Y' foun' me okay? Yer sister's kinda scary, yanno."

"Stay the hell away from my family, Ichimaru," Ichigo snapped, leaping off the roof-wall and stalking across the gritty surface to face the other man. "If you go near my sister again -"

"I din' go near her, Ichi-kun," Gin interrupted, pale blue eyes wide and guileless. "She came up t' me an' wan'ed t' know if I knew ya."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Y' think I'd lie t' ya? 'm hurt, Ichi-kun," Gin pouted, putting a hand over his heart with an expression of exaggerated misery.

"I'm sure," Ichigo shot back, voice dripping sarcasm. "How the hell did you get loose, anyway? Urahara said the collar you were wearing was kidou-bound and you couldn't have gotten it off by yourself."

Gin snickered softly in reply, one pale hand arcing lazily to brush the side of an equally pale face. "Kensei-kun needs t' be more careful were he leaves his Zanpakutou when he's showerin'," came the grinning answer. "Li'l dagger like that, perfect for trimmin' annoyin' li'l threads, doncha think?"

"Fine," Ichigo snapped, waving his hand to cut Gin off. "You cut your collar, I get the point. But what the hell are you doing here, waiting for me? Why didn't you escape?"

"An' who says I wan'ed t' escape?" Gin countered, tilting one eyebrow. "I was jus' gettin' bored an' cooped up an' wan'ed to take a walk s'all. Knew somebody would be comin' out for me, so I decided t' wait. An' I decided t' wait here for ya 'cause I like the scenery."

Frowning, Ichigo glanced around. They were on top of an old apartment building, only three stories high and constructed of shabby brick and cracking mortar. Gin, for his part, was leaning against the edge wall of the roof and gazing at the building opposite, an older, even smaller structure with worn paint and a few slowly-spreading cracks in the stuccoed exterior.

Standing behind Gin, Ichigo could follow the man's gaze through the building's wide windows, peering into the lives of its inhabitants as they continued on their weary way, neither knowing nor caring that a pair of spirits could see their movements.

Gin, for his part, was staring fixedly through one window in particular. Scowling, Ichigo glanced through the same window, then blinked slightly. A young woman, probably not more than twenty, was sitting in a rocking chair just inside the window, wrapped in a simple blue yukata. One hand was rhythmically rubbing her heavily pregnant belly, while the other supported the slim book she was reading. She was pretty enough, Ichigo figured with a shrug - her best feature was probably her curly brown hair, worn long - but she looked nothing like Matsumoto. What, then, was the interest on Gin's part?

"Why the hell are you out here spying on innocent people, Gin?" Ichigo demanded finally, after a second or two of watching the woman rock.

Eerily pale-blue eyes blinked back up at Ichigo, fully open and oddly serious. "Some people ain't innocent, Ichi-kun. Some ain' even born innocent," he added, so softly that Ichigo wondered if the last comment had been intended to be heard at all.

"We're going back to the Shoten," he said flatly, rather than trying to ponder the philosophical nature of Gin's mumbles.

" 'course we are," came the agreeable reply, as Gin unfolded himself and stood. "You escortin' me back, or am I goin' alone?"

"Ichimaru, if you think I'm leaving you alone for a damned _second_, you're crazier than you look. Get moving!"

"Wha'ever you say, _Taichou_," Gin drawled in response, and promptly vanished down the fire escape. Ichigo blinked once, swore in startled disbelief, and leaped off the roof to follow him.

* * *

In the building opposite, the unborn baby shifted restlessly within his mother's womb, mutely protesting the disappearance of the burning reiatsu from nearby.

Gently, the young woman rubbed her stomach again, humming absently to herself as she continued to read down the page of the baby-names book she held. Although she'd only been skimming the entries, one name about halfway down the page caught her eye.

"Sosuke..."


	22. Transformations

Phew, and I thought _last_ week's chapter was long! There is, as usual, a lot going on in this chapter - we're heading towards the end of the story here, but don't despair! Although Red Duty, Black Honor will probably be finished within the month, I already have a sequel in the works, entitled Blood and Honor. Once RDBH wraps, B&H will be given the same weekly updates. It will probably wind up being of comparable length to RBDH itself, so I hope you will all enjoy it!

KIRIBAN Update: As it now looks like I'm reasonably assured of reaching 350 reviews, I will be doing a third Kiriban for this story. (This is another practice I will maintain with B&H - I enjoy the Kiribans too much to give them up!)

Also, fellow author CeredwenFlame has done me the incredible honor of writing a one-shot story based on RDBH. Her story, 'Inspired,' is a beautiful ByaRen piece and I'm delighted to have acted as her Muse for it. If you get a minute, it's definitely worth a read!

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 21: Transformations

A soft knock on the frame of Renji's office door wasn't enough to lift his head from the paperwork he was determinedly bulldozing through, although it did spawn a grunted 'yeah?' in reply. It was just past lunchtime; Renji had eaten only because Rikichi had thought to bring him in food, chiding his Captain as he did so about taking care of himself and the fact that Renji was loosing weight - which was true, although how Rikichi had noticed that through three layers of clothing, that, Renji didn't ask.

The door rolled quietly open, and he was vaguely aware of a set of light footsteps entering and pausing in the center of the room. Without raising his head, Renji held up a finger in the universal gesture for 'one minute,' and continued writing. When somebody cleared their throat a moment later, Renji stamped his signature on the bottom of the evaluation form he'd been working on with a sigh - fifty-nine down, a hundred and twenty-some to go - and glanced up.

The woman standing before his desk wasn't familiar, and it wasn't until he caught sight of Shuuhei, leaning against the doorframe and looking impatient - it had been he that cleared his throat - that her identity registered.

"Ise Minori, right?" he asked gruffly, setting the completed evaluation aside to dry.

"Yes, Abarai-taichou," came the politely measured response.

He scrutinized her for a moment, taking in the carefully balanced stance and the rough edges of callouses visible on the sides of her hands. "You're Nanao-fukutaichou's half-sister?" If there was a resemblance between the two, he couldn't see it - obviously Nanao took after her father.

"Yes, sir, that's correct," she replied calmly, folding her hands behind her back at parade-rest. Renji stared at her for a second longer before letting a smile crease the corners of his mouth.

"You as good an officer as she is?"

The woman blinked, startled for a moment, before a sharp grin flashed across her face. "Nobody's as good as Nanao-san. But since you're not as bad as Kyouraku-taichou, it's hardly an issue, now, is it?"

Renji's own grin widened as he glanced around her elbow to the doorway where Shuuhei lingered, laughing silently and shaking his head. "Point taken. Have a seat, Ise-san, and tell me about your combat style."

She did so, silently folding herself into the chair before his desk, and he saw her eyes slide to the dark-green folder still resting on the edge where Matsumoto had left it, Buttercup insignia of the Ninth facing clearly upwards.

"No, I haven't read your file yet," he said, and her eyes snapped back to him, looking faintly guilty. "I haven't had a chance to, an' frankly, talking to you for five minutes will tell me just as much about you as that pile of papers will."

She arched her eyebrows slightly, but simply nodded and began. "My combat style is Shunpo-centered, close-range melee fighting with some mid-range kidou attacks..."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Renji watched Minori - ("I go by my given name, sir, and I always have,") slip out the door of his office, headed for the Fifth's training grounds. While she was a promising candidate, he wasn't ready to accept her without allowing the rest of the Division some say. For today, she would help him oversee training, offering him an outside pair of eyes and a different set of thoughts.

Shuuhei, still lingering at the edge of the office, pulled the door shut behind her and turned to Renji, a faint, thoughtful frown tracing lines at the corners of his mouth.

"What do you think of her?" Hisagi asked mildly, and Renji glanced up from where he was shuffling papers into order.

"She's not close to Nanao?" The fact that she had referred to her as 'Nanao-san' had clued him to that; any other questions he'd asked about the Eighth's Lieutenant had been met with polite but impersonal observations.

"Apparently worshipped the ground her sister walked on when she was a kid," Shuuhei answered around a lopsided shrug, strolling to the center of the room to lean on the recently vacated chair. "But there's enough of an age difference that they were never particularly close. There's still a lot of respect, but Minori's become her own person since the Academy."

"Yeah, I noticed a sense of humor," Renji answered dryly, and Shuuhei snorted, spinning the chair around and straddling it backwards, folding his arms across the back.

"Serious impressions, though?"

"Competent," Renji answered shortly. "Havin' a close-range fighter to help train would be good, since it's not exactly my area of expertise. I'll announce open applications this afternoon for current Squad members and see how many takers I get."

"Your third seat isn't interested in applying?"

Renji barked out a laugh despite himself. "Masai? Hell, no. Captain's Council actually wanted to depose Momo after the War an' have Masai step in as Lieutenant, but she refused 'em, and they weren't willing to throw an outsider in at that point an' risk screwing up the morale even worse. Said she didn't mind the responsibility, but didn't want the meetings an' politics. I asked her again, the day after Momo came t' me. She still doesn't want the position," he added wearily. "Be a hell of a lot easier if she did."

"When has anything been easy for us, though?" Shuuhei countered with a biting laugh. "We're still Rukon rats, after all." Something in what he'd said evidently gave him pause, because he stopped short, blinking at a sudden thought. "Kohai..."

Renji glanced up from the papers, his eyes sharp. Shuuhei's tone had softened, and he was wearing his 'senpai face,' which usually meant there was some sort of lecture in the offing.

"What's going on between you and Kuchiki-taichou?"

_Fuck_, Renji thought, scrambling for a believable explanation. When nothing occurred to him, he settled on obfuscation instead. "What do you mean, 'goin' on'? I was th' man's Lieutenant for almost a year; 'course we're still gonna meet t' talk an' train. I took over th' Sixth when he had t' leave Seireitei for a coupla days, an' I'm sure he'd return th' favor -"

"Renji," Shuuhei said patiently, "stop dicking around. I've known you too long to fall for your bullshit routine."

"Ain't bull -"

"Your accent never gets that strong anymore unless you're stressed, kohai." When that shut Renji up, Shuuhei leaned forward over the desk, staring into the redhead's eyes with a piercing intensity that had been striking fear into the hearts of slacking officers for years. Renji merely snorted at him.

"Look, kohai... I know you're involved with Kuchiki," he said bluntly, and sighed when Renji abruptly went a few shades paler. "I just need to know that you're not... that you're in this willingly, all right?"

Whatever response Shuuhei was expecting to his question, it was certainly not an explosive burst of laughter that had Renji rocking back in his chair, clutching his stomach.

"You... you think I'm bein' _coerced_?" Renji sputtered, coughing a little on the last word as he tried to settle his snickers. "Fuck, senpai..."

"It's not funny, Abarai," Shuuhei answered, trying to sound annoyed and stern when he was reeling with bewilderment. He knew Renji; had known him when he was just a punk kid at the Academy, stupid-brave and crazy-strong, and so bad at kidou that any thought of him passing that class was laughable. (He had, eventually, though not without a great deal of help from Kira.) But the man before him now; Captain-clad, confident in himself and his own strength, was a completely different animal from the Renji of a few decades ago.

"Shuuhei," Renji said levelly, biting back a few lingering snickers, "you an' Kira happy together?"

"Ecstatic," Shuuhei answered, "and don't change the subject. You and Kuchiki -"

"_Senpai_," Renji said sharply, and Hisagi paused, mouth half-open, as Renji shook his head at him. "_Trust me_. What's goin' on between me an' Byakuya right now is... fuck, it's beyond my wildest dreams. An' I can promise you, he ain't doin' anything t' coerce me. We've been keepin' it under wraps for a good reason, an' it's gonna _stay_ that way for the minute, y' understand?"

"If you say so," Shuuhei answered slowly, frown still lingering as he eyed his friend. "The necklace you're wearing, though..."

Instinctively, Renji's hand snapped up to touch the scarf draped around his throat, still covering the heavy black pearls and that glittering crest. "How did you -"

"The scarf slipped while you were chasing Hitsugaya this morning," Shuuhei answered, cutting off the sharp demand. "And then you called Kuchiki-taichou 'Byakuya' when you took off. Ayasegawa was the one who figured out the necklace was probably some sort of... possessive marker."

Renji coughed, choking on another snicker, and shook his head slightly, white teeth flashing in a broad grin. "Look, I can't discuss the necklace right yet, a'right? Byakuya an' I have some stuff we gotta clear up first, so just keep your mouth shut on it until after this weekend."

"What happens this weekend?" Shuuhei asked, genuinely curious, and Renji glowered at him across the desk. Holding up his hands in surrender, Shuuhei rose from his seat, shaking his head. "All right, all right. I won't ask. I've got to get back to my Squad, and I think you have training to oversee."

"No rest for the weary," Renji quoted, following Shuuhei out of the office and shoving the door shut behind him.

"No rest for the wicked," Shuuhei countered, and Renji smacked him on the back of the head and headed out to the training grounds.

Shuuhei laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his head lightly, and watched as Renji settled into place in front of his assembled group, barking out orders while Minori positioned herself off to one side, listening attentively.

Satisfied that they would manage, Shuuhei turned and headed out the gate. A few steps beyond it though, he paused, reconsidered, and turned in the direction of the Thirteenth.

* * *

"All right, form up!" Renji snapped, and the assembled group of Shinigami obediently scrambled into ranks facing their Captain. Despite their attention, more than one set of eyes was drifting questioningly towards Minori. Glancing over, Renji caught her eye and beckoned her sharply towards him. She stepped forward, keeping her head deferentially lowered, and stopped a few paces away and facing him, rather than taking a Lieutenant's stance behind his shoulder.

"Before you ask, this is Minori. She's on loan to us from the Ninth to help me oversee training, since she's a close-quarters fighter and that's hardly my area of expertise."

As he'd hoped, that drew a few chuckles from the assembled officers, but there was still a bit of nervous shifting in the ranks until one soldier in the front row tentatively raised his hand to be recognized. Rather to Renji's surprise, it was Yahi.

"You had a question, Yahi?"

"Yes, Abarai-taichou. Is she a Lieutenant candidate?"

From the number of low mutters and sidelong glances the question inspired, clearly Yahi was not the only one to be considering the issue. Keeping his face carefully neutral, Renji folded his hands behind his back and addressed them calmly.

"At this moment, no. Hisagi-taichou of the Ninth did recommend her for consideration as my new Lieutenant, but I haven't had time yet to post for the position. I'm holding off on making any decisions until everyone from within the Squad who wants to trial has had a chance to apply. If any of you wants to be considered, come to my office after training."

Rikichi, at the back of the group, bunched his eyebrows in confusion. "So she's here for..."

"Like I said, she's on loan to help with training. Any other questions?" When a round of mute headshakes answered him, Renji nodded with satisfaction. "All right then, let's go!"

* * *

Training was progressing well. Half an hour later, Renji paused between bouts to stretch his aching sword arm and cast a glance across the rest of the group. The gathering of fifty had been subdivided into three groups; twenty paired off to work on basic kendo maneuvers under the supervision of his fifth seat, fifteen slightly more advanced students reporting to each Renji and Minori, who was acquitting herself well in straight sword combat.

Renji's next opponent had just stepped into the sparring ring when there was a scraping clash of steel slipping against steel, a shriek of pain, and a shouted curse. His hand spasming around Zabimaru's hilt, Renji spun to face the twin lines of kendo fighters, most of whom were now frozen in place, staring at the far end of their line.

Renji took the leap in Flashstep, barely registering as Minori landed beside him from the other side of the field. His gaze was locked on Rikichi, lying curled on the ground and clutching at his right arm, which had been cut to the bone only inches below his shoulder.

The one who'd been sparring against him was staring at the blood on his blade, an expression of utmost horror on his features. "His... his block slipped... I didn't mean..."

"Fucking rookies," Renji snarled, grasping the sleeve of his shihakusho and tearing it free, bundling the fabric and pressing it against the bloody wound. "Don't just stand there staring at an injury, get pressure on it to stop the bleeding! Who here's got healing kidou?"

Nobody answered; he glanced at Minori, who was busy tearing her own sleeve into strips. "Not my area of expertise, sir," she answered grimly, wrapping the first length over the compress.

"Shit," Renji muttered, and gathered Rikichi's slim form into his arms as soon as the bandage was secure. "Hold on, kid. I'm gettin' you to the Fourth. The rest of you, get back to training!" he snapped, and leaped into Flashstep, heading for the Fourth once again with one of his officers cradled in his arms.

* * *

"Be still, Abarai-sama."

"If you weren't so damned keen on stickin' pins in me, I wouldn't keep moving!" Renji snapped back, feeling extremely tempted to kick the tailor in the head. Four hours beyond dinner found Renji in a small room in the Kuchiki manor, accompanied by a tailor, his bevy of assistants, and, surprisingly, Byakuya.

The noble was standing silently on his low stool, his face calmly expressionless as the tailor's assistants swarmed over him like ants on a drop of honey. The master tailor, however, was focusing his regrettably sharp attentions on Renji, who had not had the benefit of Byakuya's multiple previous fittings for his ceremonial garb. The initial measurements for the garments had been taken from Renji's shihakusho, but in order to ensure perfection, tailoring was required.

Tailoring which, Renji had discovered, seemed to involve an inordinate number of straight pins being jabbed into his ankles for no particular reason.

"My apologies, Abarai-sama," the tailor answered, and promptly stuck a pin in his calf instead. Renji swore under his breath, trying to remain perfectly motionless on the stool to give the sadistic tailor fewer excuses to jab at him.

"You are upset, Renji."

It wasn't phrased as a question, but Renji had enough experience with his former Captain to recognize the faint tilt of his eyebrows as curiosity, the slightly altered pitch of his voice as inquisitiveness.

"Rikichi was injured during training," he explained simply, a non-answer for a non-question, and Byakuya nodded in understanding.

"He will recover?"

"Yeah," Renji answered, closing his eyes and trying not to see the boy's bloodied arm in his mind. He was no stranger to grievous injuries - the wounds he'd taken from Senbonzakura Kageyoshi were far worse than anything he'd faced on a true battlefield, even fighting the Espada - but it was always harder to watch an innocent be injured by accident than having _himself_ be injured in combat. "He'll be fine. Medics got him fixed up okay, but it wasn't pretty. Without Momo in the Squad, there's nobody there who's got real skills with healing kidou, so I had to scramble him to the Fourth. I'm hardly the only Squad draggin' guys in there bleeding, but it still makes me feel like shit."

"Perhaps Abarai-sama should consider addressing that issue," the tailor suggested dryly, finishing his adjustments of the hem. "Finished, thank you, Abarai-sama."

"Eh?" Blinking in surprise, Renji glanced down at the tailor, who was busily collecting his notes and the few pins he had not utilized.

"The adjustments to your hakama are completed, Abarai-sama. You may return to your original garb now, so that the alterations might be made," the tailor reiterated calmly, and Renji stared at him for a moment longer before stepping carefully off the stool - avoiding the inevitable pins scattered across the tatami - and stepped behind the screen to divest himself the heavy silk garments. One of the tailor's assistants stood on the other side of the screen, snatching the clothing up as Renji draped it over the top and taking it to hangers to prevent it from being wrinkled.

Renji emerged a moment later, transition from black silk to black linen complete, as Byakuya stepped gracefully down from his own stool, allowing the tailor's assistants to whisk the black silk haori from his shoulders before he, too, retreated behind the screen to change.

Following the course of the silken coat with his gaze, Renji watched as it was slipped neatly over a hanging bar and secured to a frame at the far corner of the room. From this angle, the design painted into the lining of the jacket was easily visible; a delicately detailed butterfly beside a hovering dragonfly.

The butterfly - the symbol of the soul - was a symbol of joy and longevity, and the dragonfly represented marital success.

Renji's own haori, the adjustments finished some time before, was hanging beside Byakuya's own. The symbols painted within Renji's jacket were very different from those within the other; a leaping koi carp and a nandina bush. The koi was a symbol of good fortune, faithfulness, and perseverance, while the nandina, symbolic of longevity, also was believed to banish misfortune.

Byakuya had been the one to commission the designs within the two garments, specifying each one for its wearer. Renji's, to honor his past and the stubborn will that had allowed him to overcome it; and Byakuya's own, to show his hope for a long and happy joining with the other man.

Each of the haori was designed in the formal five-crested fashion, with a mon embroidered on the back of the collar, each shoulder, and the end of each sleeve. Traditionally, each of these crests would have been identical - the family shield - but Byakuya's request had altered that.

On Byakuya's own haori, the Kuchiki family mon was repeated three times; at the nape of the neck and the cuff of each sleeve - but the two insignia on his shoulders were the Camilla, the flower-symbol of the Sixth Squad.

Renji's haori was even more unusual. The mon at the back of his neck was that of the Kuchiki House - Byakuya had insisted upon it, despite the fact Renji had not yet been formally recognized by his family. The shoulders of the jacket bore the Fifth Division's Lily of the Valley, but the cuffs had simple kanji in place of the elegant crest or graceful flowers.

_Inuzuri_.

It had shocked Renji, at first; when the haori was initially presented to him, hours earlier, he had fallen speechless at the sight of the Rukongai District's designation, starkly visible in silver-white thread against the black silk. Even now, he stared across the room, ignoring the exiting tailors, at the simple kanji and wondered at the fact Byakuya had ordered his harsh past shown on his sleeves.

"It is not something to be ashamed of, Renji," Byakuya said calmly as he emerged from behind the screen, shihakusho in immaculate order despite the fact he'd dressed in half the time Renji had. "I have no wish to hide your origins, for they played a part in forming the man you have become. Where you not who you are..." Allowing his voice to trail off, Byakuya gestured eloquently around the room, the slight movement of his hand encompassing not only himself and Renji, but the waiting ceremonial garb as well.

"Had you never honed your determination by fighting to escape Inuzuri, it never would have lead you to follow me. If you had not gained strength and courage from your past, you never would have sought to combat me. And if it had not given you loyalty and passion... you would not have won me. Every moment of your past has played its part in turning you into the man before me, Abarai Renji. Do not shrink from it."

Stunned, Renji stared at Byakuya, wide-eyed and speechless until the Kuchiki scion leaned upwards and brushed his lips against Renji's in a feather-light kiss. "It is time, I think, that both of us ceased bowing beneath the shadows of our pasts," Byakuya murmured, his breath whispering over Renji's mouth as he spoke.

* * *

He could sense the mingled waves of reiatsu before he even entered the compound of the Fifth Squad, and headed for his quarters with a weary smile. It seemed like his rooms attracted uninvited - though not, he had to admit, unwanted - guests.

When he opened the door and saw into his living room, however, he nearly fell over in shock. The sheer power of two of the reiatsu - Ukitake's and Hitsugaya's - had blinded him to the rest of the ones present.

Captain Ukitake was sitting neatly on one side of Renji's couch, a cup of steaming tea in his hands and a snoring Kyouraku's head resting on his shoulder. Ise Nanao was perched on the sofa's arm next to her comatose Captain, her expression cool as always. Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, Shuuhei, Yumichika and Rukia were all arrayed around the floor on an assortment of cushions Renji didn't recognize, although he was reasonably certain they'd come from somewhere in his quarters. Someone - likely Rukia - had clearly availed the party of his pantry, because only Kyouraku - who was either dead-to-the-world asleep or doing a very good imitation of the same - was without a drink in hand, and there were several plates of snacks cluttering his table. Renji's stomach growled at the sight, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since lunch - there had been dinner offered at the Kuchiki house, of course, but he had been too nervous to eat.

"Did I forget my birthday?" Renji asked, mildly amused as he slid the door shut behind him and strode in.

"No, dumbass," Rukia laughed, standing up to offer him a cup of tea, which he ignored for the moment. "You forgot your honeymoon!"

"Rukia!" Renji snapped in panic, darting a wide-eyed glance around the room - Ukitake should have been the only other one present to know of his impending ceremony, but... nobody looked surprised. Even Kyouraku - who had considerably reduced the volume of his snoring at Renji's entrance and was currently watching the young Captain from under his heavy eyelashes - was merely smiling.

"We know, kohai," Shuuhei informed him, somewhat unnecessarily, taking a casual sip of tea.

"And we think it's a beautiful thing that you and Kuchiki-taichou are finally getting your heads out of your respective backsides and dealing with your feelings like mature and civilized creatures," Yumichika added, daintily popping a piece of dumpling in his mouth. Renji gaped at the entire group in astonishment while the men grinned, Rangiku and Rukia giggled and Nanao ducked her head, blushing.

"I... you all... what... how?" Renji sputtered, half-indignant and half-relieved. "How did you -"

"Sit down, idiot," Rukia chided him, and he did so, dropping numbly onto an empty cushion. The cup of tea was offered to him again, and he accepted it out of habit, still blinking in astonishment.

"I was still concerned after our talk this afternoon," Shuuhei admitted, setting his own cup down on the table and leaning forward, elbows on his knees, face serious. "I thought about it, and I went to the Thirteenth. I knew that if I told them how concerned I was, either Rukia-san or Ukitake-san would help to clear things up a little." He paused, shuffled a hand across the back of his head, and grinned. "I got there about the same time Hitsugaya did."

"Matsumoto made me go," came the low mutter, and Renji grinned down at the Captain's silver head.

"I hardly _made_ you do it," Matsumoto protested, jabbing a finger at him. "You were just as curious as the rest of us!"

"And then, of course," Rukia said, rolling her eyes dramatically, "they came to ask _me_ about it."

"We kind of... ganged up on Rukia a bit," Shuuhei admitted, not looking particularly contrite. "Ukitake finally stepped in to rescue her from us, and he was the one who told us that Kuchiki had basically proposed to you."

"You had more or less admitted to Hisagi-san that the ceremony was to take place this weekend, and because he and Toushirou-kun knew your schedule, we realized that you hadn't planned any time off following it," Ukitake added, eyes bright with good humor as he poked Kyouraku in the stomach, making the bigger man sit up with a faint squeak. "You're _heavy_, Shun."

"You weren't complaining earlier, love," Kyouraku drawled back, tugging playfully at a lock of Ukitake's hair, and chuckled as the pale Captain blushed.

"Which is why we're volunteering to take care of the Fifth for you," Hitsugaya added, cutting off Ukitake and Kyouraku's banter.

"For the entire week following the ceremony. It would be longer, but we wouldn't want you and Kuchiki to exhaust one another, now, would we?" Yumichika twittered, and Shuuhei shook his head behind his Lieutenant's back and stood up, walking to the door. For a moment, Renji worried that his old friend was leaving - until Shuuhei calmly rolled the door back to admit a lean blond man, who had just raised his hand to knock.

"Shuuhei?" came the startled question, and Renji nearly fell over with shock - the man at his doorway was Kira. This was the first time he'd caught a glimpse of the Third's Lieutenant since his return, and the transformation was an amazing one. In the low light, with his demeanor and hairstyle completely changed, Renji hadn't even recognized his old friend.

"C'mon in, Izuru. Where you here to ask him about this weekend?" Shuuhei grinned, grabbing the startled man's hand to lead him into the room.

"I was, but - wait," Kira blinked, startled, not thinking to protest as Shuuhei sat back down on his cushion and tugged the blond into his lap. "How did you know about the ceremony?"

"Asked Ukitake," Shuuhei replied. "How did you know?"

"I asked Kuchiki Fumio," came the bemused reply. "I came by offer if Renji needed any help at the Fifth, but obviously I'm not the only one who thought of that."

"You guys..." At an utter loss for words, Renji could only stare at the group. "You'd really...?"

Rukia's arms, startlingly strong for as small as she was, wrapped around his shoulders in another of her backbreaking hugs. "Of _course_ we will," she snapped, laughing in his ear, and Renji had to drag himself away from memories of their distant childhood, back to the much happier, if more complicated, present. "We all care about you, you moron. And we want you and Nii-sama to be happy."

"Take the week, Abarai," Hitsugaya said, his tone suggesting an eyeroll even if his face was impassive. "Your squad and the Sixth will be in good hands."

"Guys..." Much to his embarrassment, Renji found his voice rough. Clearing his throat, he shook his head slightly. "How am I going to thank you?"

"Pictures?" Rukia and Matsumoto asked in unison, and everyone laughed when Renji blushed crimson.

* * *

Shuuhei excused himself and Yumichika a few minutes later - the Ninth had late patrols that night - and Kira, Matsumoto, Hitsugaya, and Rukia slid out with him, leaving Renji alone with Ukitake, Kyouraku, and Nanao, who had not spoken a word the entire evening. Renji, his stomach still growling and happy to have company, offered to whip up a late dinner for the group, and cheerfully threw together a fast stir-fry when Kyouraku accepted on all of their behalf.

* * *

"I hope you're not bothered by my breaking silence, Abarai-san," Ukitake said mildly, setting the last, emptied plate aside. The dinner had been eaten with little conversation other than compliments for Renji's cooking, which had been accepted with a grin and a nod.

"As your friends, they would have been among the first to learn the truth once you were able to speak of it, and all of them are trustworthy."

"Even if Ran-chan and Yumi are the biggest gossips in the Seireitei, they're your friends, Renji," Kyouraku said softly, before Renji could formulate a reply. "They won't let the word slip until you tell them it's all right."

Instead of answering either of them, Renji let his gaze swing slowly to Nanao, who had moved down to one of the vacated floor pillows and was kneeling in a prim seiza, patiently ignoring the other occupants of the room.

"Ise," he said firmly, and she jerked her head up to look at him, startled. "What do you think of all this?"

She regarded him with clear surprise for a moment, before lifting a hand to push her glasses up her nose. "I don't see that my opinion has any bearing on - hey!"

Renji had darted out a hand and carefully plucked the light glasses from her face. The eyes that stared back at him, unshielded for the first time in his memory, were so like Byakuya's that it almost stopped his heart. The heavy lids, the mercurial color, and the chilly gaze... "You really are his sister, aren't you?" he muttered, ignoring her startled gasp, and stared down at the glasses in his hand.

"How did you -"

"Do you honestly need these?" he interrupted, waving them lightly at her, and she snatched them out of his hand even though he wasn't trying to keep them from her. Rather than putting them back on, though, she cradled them before her in shaking hands.

"I'm farsighted," she answered after a moment, her voice shaking almost as badly as those slim hands of hers. Across the table, Renji could feel Kyouraku's energy shifting and Ukitake's responding to it, gently reining the bigger Captain back when he might have interfered.

Throwing a brief, grateful glance in Jyuushiro's direction, Renji turned his attention quickly back to Nanao. "So you need help seeing what's right in front of you, huh?" he asked, voice serious, and when she glanced up at him with an angry retort building on her tongue, he flashed her a grin, broad and wild, and she fell speechless. "I guess it runs in the family."

She gaped at him wordlessly for a moment, blushing crimson, before ducking her head and shoving her glasses back into place.

"How long have you known about that, Renji?" That was Kyouraku, once again lounging against Ukitake's shoulder, the very picture of relaxation until you noticed the hardness of his eyes. He really was protective of his Lieutenant and her wellbeing, something that was easy to overlook with the careless way he flirted.

"I knew about Byakuya having a half-sibling since Ginrei-san told me," Renji answered, his glance flickering between Ukitake and Kyouraku. His assumption that the two had discussed the Kuchiki elder's visit was apparently correct, as both of them simply nodded. "I realized it was Nanao this morning, when Shuuhei gave me Ise Minori's file." Glancing back at the woman sitting beside him, he added mildly, "I don't know why I hadn't figured it out earlier, though. You look a lot like him."

Nanao blushed again, and Kyouraku laughed, loudly enough that Ukitake elbowed him in the solar plexus. "Mmm, Bya-kun's daddy was a pretty one," Shunsui chuckled breathlessly, rubbing his stomach and not looking remotely bothered by Nanao's scathing look. "Pity about his disposition, of course, but other than the temper and the stubbornness, he doesn't seem to have passed much of it on."

"Oh, both of those could just as easily have come from Ginrei's side of the family," Ukitake countered, grinning broadly, and Nanao and Renji both perked up their ears a bit.

"Of course, of course. Ginrei's an old friend of Yama-jii's, and you don't stay friends with the old man without a damn strong constitution," Kyouraku snickered. "Although I don't think I've ever seen that man exhibit the kind of temper that Bya-kun used to..."

"Agreed, agreed. Even when he was sworn to me in apprenticeship, Byakuya never did bow his head," chuckled Ukitake. Renji, mildly confused - he'd known that Byakuya had served in the Thirteenth, but not that he was directly apprenticed to its Captain - was just opening his mouth to query that when Ukitake turned his head sharply, glancing towards the door. Kyouraku and Nanao followed his gaze, and within a split-second Renji could feel what they had sensed - Yumichika's reiatsu was coming towards the barracks, fast.

"Oh, hell," Renji muttered, leaping up to open his door to the man, "_now_ what?"

Yumichika alighted on the veranda outside with a puff of reiatsu, his eyes hard and a light, reddening bruise marking one fine cheekbone. "Renji," he said sharply, dismissing honorifics for the sake of expediency, "you're needed. District 34." And he vanished again the way he had come; headed back to Rukongai and the Ninth's patrol.

Cursing, Renji seized Zabimaru from its rack and followed.

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me," Renji muttered a few minutes later. Disbelieving, he sought out Shuuhei's form among the wreckage, and found his senpai standing by a group of injured Shinigami, hands on his hips and impressive, if rarely-seen, temper in full force.

"Not kidding," Yumichika answered, a hint of the Eleventh's bloodthirsty cheer coloring his tone. Renji shot him a look of mingled annoyance and friendly exasperation, and picked his way around the shattered timbers to talk to Hisagi.

"...blatant irresponsibility and the absolute worst thing any of you could have done for the reputation of your Division!" Shuuhei bellowed at the half-dozen Shinigami in front of him. Not one of them was unmarked; all had bruised faces and bloodied knuckles, one was cradling a dislocated shoulder, and another leaning on his companion, trying to keep weight off his left leg.

And all six of them were Renji's.

"The reputation of the Fifth Division is just beginning to recover, Abarai is working himself _to the_ _bone_ to restore you and your Squad to some sort of respectability, and then you go and pull something like this without ever considering the consequences that your actions will engender! This will reflect _on your entire Division_ -"

"And me, as well," Renji added grimly, stepping up next to Shuuhei. Several of the officers blanched at his appearance, and Renji frowned at the group to hide his surprise when he recognized the faces.

Yahi had a black eye that covered the entire left side of his face. Masai, the third seat, gave him an apologetic glance in place of words, her jaw so swollen he had little doubt it was broken. Hozou, who had been the one dragged into fighting Yahi and causing the other officer's original disciplining, was the one with the dislocated shoulder, already showered with blood from his wounded forehead. Rikichi, still favoring his barely-healed right arm, grimaced apologetically at Renji from the back of the group, trying to stem the flow of blood from his obviously-broken nose with his other hand. The other two - his seventh and fifteenth seats - shot him guilty glances out of swollen, blackened eyes. Mao, the seventh, shifted his leg - Renji could now see clearly that the ankle was broken - and offered a wincing, contrite smile.

Jabbing a finger towards Yahi - despite the fact he was wearing a forehead-to-chin bruise, he was the least injured of the bunch - Renji said simply, "Explain."

"We came out here for a drink, sir. Odano -" that was the fifteenth seat - "recommended the place."

"They wanted to celebrate my healing," Rikichi offered from the back of the group, his voice wet from his still-bleeding nose. "Guess it was kind of a convenient excuse? We came out and got a few drinks, but they had been here for a while before us," he added, pointing carefully with his healing arm to a line of Eleventh Division officers, sitting in a disorderly line against a fallen beam behind Shuuhei. There were nine of them altogether. Five were intoxicated beyond the ability to stand - the other four had been restrained with bakudo. All were bleeding or bruised, and all of them were clearly very, very drunk. One was singing to himself, very off-key, and two more were bickering back and forth in slurred voices about gods-only-knew-what.

"They were drunk by the time we got here," Odano picked up, shrugging the shoulder that wasn't supporting his best friend's weight. "I know that some of the Eleventhers hang out at this bar, but it had never been a problem, but tonight they were all pissed off about something, and, well, they started trash-talking you, Captain."

Renji arched his eyebrows in surprise. "You want to tell me how a bunch of my former teammates being themselves and running their mouths translated into this?" he asked quietly, gesturing to the destroyed bar behind them.

"We told them... uhm, we told them to shut up," Mao offered vaguely, and Renji noticed for the first time that there was a magnificent bruise forming on the man's temple. He would have to get checked for a concussion. "And they didn't. So we made them."

"You did _what_?"

" 'kichi here knocked the first guy down," Odano remarked, sounding ridiculously proud as he waved in Rikichi's direction. "Told him to shut the hell up about you because you were the best damned Captain in the Seireitei and they could never hope to... what'd you say, kid?"

"That Abarai-taichou is the best Captain in all of Seireitei and they had no right to consider so much as stepping on his shadow, let alone defaming his name," Rikichi answered, blushing under the blood and bruises, and Renji stared for a moment. It was bizarre, how much those words mirrored how he had once thought of Byakuya...

"Then one of them knocked Rikichi down, and so the rest of us got into it, and things... got a little out of control," Odano added, glancing behind himself at the shattered remains of the bar.

"_Really_," Renji answered sarcastically, and all six of the officers winced. "And that is your official report on the matter, gentlemen?"

Masai gave him an annoyed look over her damaged jaw, and he shrugged slightly at her in return. She could damn well hand in a written report if she wanted it phrased in her own words.

"We..." glancing nervously around at the others, Odano grimaced and plunged ahead. "We were rather hoping that this would not wind up in an official report, sir?"

"And what the hell am I supposed to excuse it as, an interdivision training exercise?" Renji snapped back. "This will be entered in the logs, I can assure you. I have no intention of lying or falsifying records simply to protect my pride of the pride of the Division. If we can't conduct ourselves in a manner that warrants that pride, then we damned well don't deserve it, do you understand me?"

Horrified looks answered him; Rikichi looked close to tears, now, and the three ranking officers looked sick. Obviously they'd been hoping he would be willing to sweep the incident under the rug for the sake of the Division's fragile morale, but Renji knew he _couldn't_, even if for no other reason than that half the Ninth had witnessed the aftermath of the fight. Lying about this matter, or any other, rang to close to Aizen's methods of captaining, and that was something he could never inflict upon his still-healing Division.

"Look," Renji sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. "I appreciate the respect you guys have for me and the fact that you were willing to take on the Eleventh Division over some harsh words about me. It does mean a lot that you have that kind of care and respect for me. That aside," he added sharply, and watched several brightening faces fall again, "all of you are going to be held fully accountable for your actions here tonight, I hope you understand that."

"Yes, sir," came the dispirited murmur, and Renji glared at them.

"What was that?"

"Yes, sir!" This time, it was a sharp and unanimous bark, and Renji nodded, pleased.

"One more thing..."

"Sir?"

"Off the record... who won?"

"Off the record?" Odano glanced around himself at the little group of assembled Fifth-Divisioners, then shot his Captain a grin that would have looked more at home with the trussed-up madmen of the Eleventh. "We kicked their asses, sir."

"_Very_ off the record? Well done. Do _not_ do it again," Renji grinned, and received several whoops in return. "Go wait over there," he added, pointing towards a clear space a short distance away. "I have to talk to Hisagi-taichou before I can escort you all back to the Fifth."

Hisagi, who had been standing patiently at Renji's side throughout the lecture, raised his eyebrows and swore once, softly, in Mandarin. It was a compliment, from him - only exceptional shock could drive Shuuhei back to speaking the Chinese tongue.

"That good?" Renji muttered from the corner of his mouth as his officers shuffled away, and Hisagi swore again.

"Who are you and what did you do with my kohai? The Abarai Renji I knew hated public speaking."

"The Abarai Renji you knew, senpai, was a Rukon dog among nobles and then the Lieutenant under the most silent Captain of the Seireitei, and never knew what to say."

Hisagi didn't have an answer for that, but one of the still-very-drunk Eleventhers sprawled out nearby hiccuped, snorted, and laughed.

" 'ba.. 'barai Rennie..." the man sniggered. "Weak, weak... couln' cut it in th' 'leventh... bein' round _real_ men..."

" 's'why he left..." giggled a second man, "but he din' like bein' fucked by K'shiki-hime... an' so 'e took over for that spineless bitch Himinori..."

Renji didn't give a damn about the Eleventh Division slurring his name or reputation, but his temper and reiatsu flared hotly when the men insulted first his betrothed, then his friend. Clenching his fist, began to turn towards the offending officers -

- and blinked, startled, as Yahi and Rikichi crossed the distance in a few running steps and knocked both men soundly unconscious.

"...well," Shuuhei remarked after a moment, staring at the two officers, who were exchanging triumphant grins over what would be another twenty pages of paperwork, each - "I'd say they learned their lesson..."

"Shut up, senpai," Renji groaned, and Shuuhei glanced at him and shook his head.

"Actually, kohai, I meant the Eleventh."

* * *

Two hours later, Renji stumbled over the doorframe of his quarters, again, intent on finding his bed. He'd made sure none of his officers had any threatening injuries - Masai's fractured jaw, Rikichi's shattered nose, and Mao's broken ankle and concussion had all been treated, but everyone else had been left to suffer the pain of their bruises as a reminder of their transgression.

Much to Renji's astonishment, it had been Yumichika who had treated the three at the site - _"Is there anything you can't do?" Renji had demanded, incredulous, as he watched the green light bloom across the delicate man's palm. _

"_He can't sing," Shuuhei had answered sourly, and Ayasegawa had sniffed disdainfully and kept treating. _

The fact that Yumichika, like Kira or Momo, was a high-ranking officer who possessed a command of healing kidou was something that had been twirling through his brain through the entire trek back from Rukongai, kept slow by the very bruised officers that he was not going to leave behind. Even those who had Shunpo skills were too drained to use it, and so Renji had silently shepherded the half-dozen officers along at a slow pace.

He'd walked his battered little group back to the Division's compound and made certain they all found their beds before he finally turned to his own. Even now, however, there was little peace to be had; trying to keep his eyes from crossing with weariness, Renji carefully picked up the sheet of paper left lying on his otherwise immaculate living-room table and blinked at Ukitake's elegant script, informing him that a Captain's meeting had been called for the next morning at seven.

It was already past two - closer to three, most likely. Setting the paper back on the table, Renji navigated his way to his bedroom, fumbled his alarm to an appropriate hour, and fell onto his bed fully dressed.

* * *

He dreamed of healing kidou and wedding kimono, and woke up three minutes before his alarm clock went off with a spectacular headache and a very good idea. Sitting up in bed for a long moment, he gazed thoughtfully at the wall while the idea gradually tumbled into solidity in his mind. When it had, he nodded decisively to himself and got up to change.

* * *

*The details I have mentioned concerning the haori are accurate, as far as they go. It is a known practice to screen an image onto the inside lining of a haori, and the images in Byakuya and Renji's are given their traditional meanings. Also, the five-crested design of the haori is also accurate, although, as stated, the crests are all identical in a normal haori. If you would like links to any of the sites I used for my research, please feel free to email/Tweet me - see Profile for addresses.

*As a side note; researching *male* wedding kimono is like trying to find a needle in a lumber pile, never mind a haystack. I have, however, learned an incredible amount of information about uchikake, or female's wedding kimono, which I will put to good use later on.


	23. Bonds Forged

A/N: I don't know what it is lately with me and runaway chapters - I think this one is longer than even the previous two, and they were both ridiculous!

On a side note - if I _ever_ again elect to write a marriage ceremony for a culture I am not familiar with, somebody please smack me. This chapter comprises, all told, a good ten hours of pure research on Shinto traditions and ceremonies - actually more time than it took me to write the chapter. As such, all traditions, etc., cited within are derived from actual Japanese (mainly Shinto) practices, although they are NOT to be taken as textbook accounts, I have modified them to suit my purposes. If you would like to follow any of the research I've done, please email or Tweet me and I will be happy to link you to some of the pages I used.

Translator's Notes:

Amaya: Women's name meaning 'night rain.'

Norio: Man's name meaning 'man of law'

'San-San-Kudo' Literally 'three three nine times,' this refers to the ceremonial drinking of sake at a traditional Shinto wedding. Three separate cups of increasing size are used, filled with sake, and the bride and groom will each take three sips from each cup. For those of you who would like to see a Sansankudo ceremony, search it on YouTube and check out the first video that comes up.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 22: Bonds Forged

Exhaustion had left Renji's limbs numb, but long practice and muscle memory had him dressed without problem, and he was already arranging the windflower-silk scarf over his Consort's necklace by the time his brain caught up to what he was doing. Suppressing a sigh - this was already looking like a long day, and it had barely begun - he scrounged a cup of strong tea from the mess on his way out and headed to the First Division.

He was focused enough on the proposal tumbling around in his mind and the cup of tea in his hand that he barely registered his surroundings - at least, until a reiatsu like a raging stormfront crashed into his own, startling him into dropping his cup.

He might have mourned the loss of the caffeine, if it weren't for the sudden surge of adrenaline spiking through his system, rendering him far more awake than the tea would have done. Resisting the urge to set his hand on Zabimaru's hilt, Renji carefully shoved the shattered bits of ceramic off the path with the side of his foot and turned to face the mountainous energy behind his.

"Zaraki-taichou," he said evenly, trying to hide his surprise at the fact that the man was actually on time for a Captain's meeting.

Then again, the distinct lack of Yachiru's presence on his shoulder probably had something to do with his uncharacteristic timeliness.

"Abarai," the big man growled, striding forward until they were separated by no more than an arm's length. "Heard our boys fought last night."

"Nine of your men were drinking in a bar in District 34," Renji answered, careful to keep his voice level and his inflection steady. Throwing accusations at the most violent Captain in the Seireitei wouldn't help anything, least of all the Fifth. "Six of my people came to the bar, overheard your men talking, and took offense when your men said something rude about me. One of my people threw the first punch, but the fight escalated and the bar was destroyed. I was called out afterwards, but Hisagi and Yumi caught most of the action."

"Hrmph," came the responding grunt. "My men said ya were a worthless Captain."

The words hurt, particularly coming from a man whose Squad had helped to teach Renji so much, but he kept his face still and turned away, intent on resuming his course to the First Division. "Can't please everybody," he answered tightly, forcing down the sting of insult.

"I told 'em to shut the fuck up, and then I beat 'em twice as bad as yer men did last night," Zaraki said absently, falling into step beside Renji. He didn't seem to expect any sort of reply to that, which was just as well; shock had trapped Renji's tongue. Zaraki had defended him... to the _Eleventh_?

"Thanks," Renji muttered finally, sleep deprivation and confusion robbing him of what little eloquence he usually possessed in the early mornings.

Zaraki snorted in response, shaking his head hard enough that the tiny bells on his hair jangled. "Don' want thanks," he growled back. "Yer men whipped mine; you won that round. I wanna rematch."

It took Renji's sleep-addled mind a moment to catch up with the circular Zaraki-logic, at which point his feet ground to a full stop and refused to go any farther. Which was not necessarily a bad thing, as they were standing in the courtyard of the First Division, before the doors of the Meeting Hall. Dimly, he noted that several of the other Captains were present, although he was not focused enough to determine their identities.

"You want _what_?"

"Wanna fight ya," Zaraki answered stubbornly. "Your men beat mine; I wanna take a shot at ya t' see if it'll be the same."

"Wha - no!" Renji snapped automatically, his mind scrambling into order. There were any number of reasons to refuse; high on the list was that the Soutaichou had forbidden Captains from dueling, in a simple measure to keep from 'losing the Seireitei's most valuable assets'. _Top_ of the list was that he had no desire whatsoever to fight the most psychotically violent of all thirteen Captains, regardless of Ichigo's victory over the man. Really, sparring with Byakuya was enough!

"Don' tell me ya _have_ gone soft," Zaraki muttered, sounding genuinely disappointed. Renji started to reply, paused, reconsidered. Then he turned to his long-ago Captain with an expression that was too sharp-edged and feral to be called a smile, teeth flashing in the light.

"Nah, not soft. Just that a fight b'tween you an' me would be to the death, an' the winner would wind up with the loser's Squad." The edge of the not-smile sharpened, taking on an edge like the bite of a wolf. "An' I don't want the Eleventh."

There was a moment of stunned silence, not just from Zaraki but from the entire courtyard, before the massive Captain threw his head back with a roar of laughter and clapped Renji on the shoulder hard enough that the redhead staggered.

"Yer all right, Abarai," Zaraki laughed, and stomped past Renji and into the hall, leaving the younger man reeling slightly in his wake.

"That was well-handled," came a soft voice in Renji's ear, and he glanced sideways to see Byakuya, standing close enough that their shoulders nearly touched, staring straight ahead, after Zaraki. "Congratulations on your victory."

"That wasn't a fight," Renji protested, turning enough to face Byakuya rather than standing parallel. The smaller man arched an eyebrow, his expression a commentary in and of itself.

"Not all battles involve blades, Renji," he replied softly, and raised one hand to brush light fingertips across Renji's cheek. The movement was so fast that Renji barely caught it, but the tingling trace of reiatsu left in the wake of the touch convinced him that he had not imagined it.

"Byakuya -"

" 'A battle fought with swords is won with words.' "

"...what's _that_ supposed to mean?" Renji asked, rubbing his forehead and glancing longingly back towards where the shattered remnants of his teacup lay.

Byakuya smiled, very faintly. "When you first unleashed your Bankai upon me, Renji, which of us won that battle?"

Was that supposed to be a trick question? "You did, of course. I'd've been dead on the ground if someone -" much to his credit, Renji managed to avoid glancing towards Unohana, who was politely pretending not to eavesdrop a short distance away, " - hadn't patched me back t'gether."

"And what was your objective, in initiating that battle?"

"T' save Rukia, of course!" Renji snapped back, shaking his head. He knew this line of questioning was leading somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out where...

"And what actions did I take, after battling you?"

"Fought Ichigo and..." Oh. "...saved Rukia," Renji finished, a bit weakly. "But, sir, you still beat the crap outta me - how could you even suggest that I won?"

"It was not merely one battle we fought, Renji, but two. In the battle of swords, you were soundly defeated. In the battle of wills, your victory was unquestionable." The faintest flicker of a smile crossed the noble's face as he left his former Lieutenant gaping at him in disbelief and stepped forward into the Meeting Hall.

Renji stared after him for a moment longer before shutting his mouth with a snap. "It's too damned early to be fuckin' philosophical!" he bellowed after Byakuya, and several of the other Captains burst into laughter.

"Be content in your victories, Renji," Byakuya called back, "and learn from your losses."

"Somehow," Renji muttered under his breath as he put his head down and ducked into the Hall, "I feel like I've just had one."

* * *

"The next matter on the agenda is that of Lieutenants," Sasikabe announced, nearly an hour later, scratching off another item on the extensive list in front of him. "Squad Five Captain Abarai, Squad Six Captain Kuchiki, both of you are currently without a second."

Renji blinked himself out of a dazed torpor that he seemed to be sharing with most of the other Captains present - only Komamura and Soifon seemed to be awake and focused. Kyouraku was actually _snoring_, although the fact that he was still steady on his feet while doing so was a little odd. Maybe he had a stick under his kimono to prop him up if he fell asleep?

"I have opened applications for Lieutenant's position for my Squad," Renji answered, trying not to yawn in midsentence. "While none of my own squad members have applied, I do have a candidate suggested to me by Hisagi-taichou that I am considering."

"Very good," Sasikabe answered vaguely, scribbling on his list. "Kuchiki?"

"I am not presently holding applications for Lieutenant's position," Byakuya replied coolly, ignoring the several eyebrows that raised at his comment. "The third seat of the Division is competent enough to fulfill necessary duties for the time being."

"Mostly, ya jus' don't want someone comin' in an' takin' Abarai's place," Zaraki snickered, grinning across the hall, and Byakuya shot the man a glare from under his elegant eyebrows.

"The likelihood of any officer 'taking Abarai's place,' Zaraki, is zero. I may, in time, fill my Squad's Lieutenant position; do not mistake that for them filling Renji's place."

If eyebrows had raised at the last statement, they virtually flew off foreheads now.

"You got somethin' goin' on that we don' know about, Hime?" Zaraki drawled, his narrowed glance shooting between Byakuya and Renji. Before Byakuya could answer, though, Renji stepped forward slightly, calling attention onto himself before Byakuya could unleash the scathing comment clearly perched on the tip of his tongue.

"Sorry t' interrupt, Zaraki-taichou, but I have a proposal that I wanna deliver b'fore this gets outta hand. Permission to speak?" he added to Sasikabe, who blinked at him and nodded, scribbling on his ever-present papers.

"Just after I took over the Fifth, one 'a my men was injured in training with a Zanpakutou wound to his throat," Renji began. "The only reason he survived was because Hinamori, who was still my Lieutenant at the time, was there and able to use a healin' kidou on him to stabilize him. Another one of my men was injured yesterday, not as badly, but severely enough to need the help of the Fourth Division. None of the officers who were at the trainin' session had any skill with healin' kidou," he added, scowling at the memory of Rikichi's bloodied, half-severed arm. "I know that Kira in the Third and Ayasegawa in the Ninth both know it, an' that's the basis for my idea.

"My proposal is that all Divisions have in-Squad healers attached to 'em - regular officers in the ranks who are trained in the proper use of healing kidou," he finished, a bit breathlessly, nervousness poking cold fingers at his stomach as the eyes of the twelve other Captains - all very awake now - focused on him.

"That is a very interesting proposal, Abarai-taichou," Yamamoto commented after a long silence, his gravelly voice rumbling through the spacious hall. "How do you propose to acquire the necessary healers to attach to the Divisions, and how many do you propose each Squad have?"

"Each Division should possess a minimum of three Healers, one for each shift," Renji answered instantly, breathing a sigh of relief at the Head-Captain's words. "Ideally, it would be at least eight; two per shift plus a relief team that could be deployed with the patrol squads. An' as for how, well, they'd have to be trained by Unohana-taichou's medics," he admitted, dipping his head somewhat awkwardly in the woman's direction. She offered her tiny, benign smile in return, and Renji nodded slightly. "The Ninth an' Third might be able to have Kira an' Yumi train theirs, but it's probably better if the trainin' is standardized. An' I think _all_ Shinigami, regardless of kidou skills, should be trained in basic field-medicine, like puttin' pressure on bleedin'."

"Proposal is submitted," Sasikabe nodded from the front of the room. "Seconded?"

"I will second," Unohana answered promptly, and Renji exhaled a faint sigh of relief.

"Those in favor?"

The hands immediately raised - the Captain-Commander never voted unless it was to break deadlock, and Renji honestly didn't expected Zaraki to support the proposal, but when he looked around, he realized with a wave of shock that every Captain other than those two had their hand up.

Eleven votes in favor.

"The proposal is passed," Sasikabe said calmly, and Renji stepped back into his place in line, head reeling.

"Just out of curiosity, Abarai-san, how did you discover that Ayasegawa-san possessed a command of healing kidou?" Urahara asked, tone mild as always, from across the expanse of bare floor. "Certainly it's not something he would have revealed when he was still a part of the Eleventh...?"

"Found out last night," Renji answered gruffly. "Some a' my men got in a scuffle with th' Eleventh, an' Yumi fixed up the serious injuries. I'll file a report on the incident when I get back to barracks," he added to Sasikabe, when a mild flash of guilt occurred to him for not having filed last night. Of course, he'd been cross-eyed with exhaustion when he got back from wrangling his people out of _that_ little mess...

"Was my men's fault," Zaraki snapped, cutting across Renji's apology. "Take it outta the 'leventh's repair budget."

"Zaraki," Renji protested, shocked, "the fight last night was -"

"My men's fault," came the firm interruption. "We'll take full responsibility."

"But -"

"Abarai Renji," the Soutaichou snapped from the front of the room, "Captain Zaraki is claiming full disciplinary and financial responsibility for the destruction of the Rukongai bar last night. Do not, as the saying goes, look a gift horse in the mouth."

For a moment, Renji could only stand, openmouthed in shock, but he finally dipped his head in acknowledgement and stepped back to his place again. "Thank you, Soutaichou-sama, Zaraki-taichou."

A grunt answered him from Zaraki's end of the line, and Sasikabe scribbled at the front of the room. "If there is no further business..."

"There is one more item for announcement," Byakuya interrupted, stepping forward and cutting his eyes to Renji. The silent summons was clear; without hesitation, Renji stepped from the line to join Byakuya in the center of the floor, and the two of them walked together to the front of the room, positioning themselves slightly to one side of the Soutaichou's chair, where everyone in the room could see. When all eyes had settled on them and silence had fallen, Byakuya very slowly reached up and unwound the deep-green scarf from Renji's neck, baring the glitter of pearls and glass to the light flooding the room.

Soifon's sharp intake of breath was the first sound to break the silence, followed almost instantly by Urahara's chuckle and Ichigo's bewildered 'what the fuck?'

"By the ancient law and precedence of the Kuchiki Clan, I, Kuchiki Byakuya, twenty-eighth head of the Kuchiki House, do formally announce that I have elected to take this man, Abarai Renji, Captain of the Fifth Division, as my recognized Consort and partner. Although some of you are already aware of this..." Silver-grey eyes, sharp with something that might have been nerves, flicked over Ukitake, skipped to Kyouraku and Hitsugaya, danced back to the other line to brush Shuuhei - even Hitsugaya quirked a smile - then finally returned to the Head-Captain, "I felt it best to make a formal announcement."

Instinctively, Renji reached out, seeking Byakuya's hand with his own. He found the cool, trembling fingers and wrapped his own around them, rough and warm, and felt Byakuya lean into him, just a little.

"An extremely bold action, Kuchiki Byakuya," Yamamoto rumbled from beside them. Renji felt the hand clasped in his own grow colder, and turned his eyes towards the most powerful man in the Soul Society, prepared to defend Byakuya's decision to his last breath -

- and found the old man looking at them both with something that might have passed for a smile.

"It has been many years since you were a defiant youth, Kuchiki Byakuya. It does not go amiss to see those days return," he said simply, leaning on the gnarled stick that was Ryuujin Jakka to push himself out of his seat. "If that is the last item for today?"

Silent nods answered him, and he turned away from the assembled group, waving a hand over his shoulder at them. "Very good. Dismissed, all of you."

Chatter burst out as soon as the old man exited, most of it aimed towards the pair still standing at the head of the room.

" -very glad you admitted it to us, Byakuya -"

" - must offer my congratulations, Byakuya-san."

"Congrats, kohai. I'm glad you're gonna be happy."

All conversation halted, however, when Ichigo - still standing in his place at the far side of the room, his expression a perfect study of astonishment, suddenly burst out, "Oh, _fuck_."

Every eye in the room turned to him in bewildered amusement. Shaking his head, Ichigo pointed an accusing finger at Renji and Byakuya and said simply, "I'm going to have _both_ of you as brothers-in-law."

* * *

The faint, steady rasp of the brush against paper seemed loud in the quiet of the office.

The steady gleam of the oil lamps cast enough light that the paperwork wasn't straining his eyes - not any more than it usually did, in any case - but three straight days of personnel evaluations were wearing. Finally setting his brush aside, Renji fumbled for his signature-stamp with one hand and smacked it soundly against the bottom of the last form.

"Done!" He proclaimed to the empty office, then raised his head enough to look around when only silence answered him. It was past midnight, he realized with some surprise as he glanced at the angle of the moonlight trickling through his window. The eight days since Byakuya had first told him of their impending ceremony had flown by, leaving behind only blurred recollections of their passing. The sweat and blood and aches of training, the dull monotony of paperwork, the slide and rustle of silk and the steady weight of Byakuya's gaze as he watched Renji being fitted in his wedding garb had all run together in Renji's mind, the edges of their colors bleeding together into a mass of confusing recollection.

Even though he knew it, intellectually, it was still a shock to realize that before this new day ended, Renji's life would be completely changed. He would be bound to Kuchiki Byakuya in ways he would never have dared to imagine possible before a few weeks ago. It was amazing, he thought musingly, how quickly things changed. Half a century ago, he was still grubbing the streets of Rukongai, hoping that he could scrounge enough food that he would not have to sell his body to get his next meal. Half a year ago, he had gazed over the broken, bloodied remnants of the Gotei and the Seireitei, and silently stepped forward, along with all his fellows, to being picking up the pieces that the War had left behind.

Half a month ago, he'd been given the shock of his life when a white haori landed in his hands, only to find, so soon after, that the shock of Captaincy was nothing to the shock of Kuchiki Byakuya fastening a betrothal necklace around his throat.

"Life's just full of surprises, isn't it?" he remarked aloud to no-one, and nearly jumped out of his seat when someone at the doorway answered, "Sir?"

"Rikichi? How long have you been there?"

"Oh... only a moment, Renji-sa - err, Abarai-taichou. I knocked, but you didn't answer."

"Sorry," Renji answered sheepishly, moving to ruffle his ponytail before remembering that he was still wearing his hair down. "Lost in thought, I guess. C'mon in, kid, what's on your mind?"

Stepping delicately across the floor, Rikichi settled himself in the visitor's chair and folded his hands in his lap, thumbs tapping nervously as he chewed on his lip. "Abarai-taichou, I, uhm..."

"Rikichi," Renji said patiently, "first off, y'can still call me 'Renji.' I don't mind. And second, I ain't gonna bite you, so just spit it out already, a'right?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," came the answer, framed in a nervous grin. "I was here because... well, the Squad medic proposal you put through the other day..."

"What about it?"

"I... uhm, well, I want to apply."

Surprise raised Renji's eyebrows, but he didn't answer immediately. Truth be told, he worried when he saw the young Shinigami in training sessions. Rikichi was not gifted with combat talent, and a while he'd managed well enough in the few skirmishes the Sixth had been involved in, an all-out battle likely would have ended him. It was largely his determination to follow Renji, his idol, that had brought him into the combat ranks at all, rather than going to the Fourth.

"I know I'm not... really suited for combat," Rikichi explained, staring down at his linked hands and twiddling thumbs. "But I'm pretty decent with kidou, and if I take on a healer's position, I can be useful, even if it is as a combat medic on patrol. I just thought that... that it might be best, sir?"

"I think it's a great idea, Rikichi," Renji answered, and the nervousness on the boy's face evaporated with his brilliant grin.

"I'm glad you think so, Renji-san. It's... I want to be useful, you know? And I know I'm not much of a Shinigami, otherwise..."

"_Hey_," Renji said sharply, and Rikichi blinked up at him, startled. "Don't you dare go puttin' yourself down like that, kid. We've all got our own talents - hell, I couldn't be a healer if the King himself ordered me to, you know how bad I am with kidou. You've gotta take what you're good at, not compare yourself to someone with a totally different skill set, 'kay?"

"Yes, sir!" Rikichi beamed back, looking genuinely surprised as he did so, and Renji resisted the urge to shake his head and sigh. Why did people insist on ignoring the talents they possessed to mourn the ones they never would?

"...sir?" came the timid question, and Renji blinked himself back to the present. The happiness was gone from Rikichi's face again, replaced with something a little bit like regret. "Is it true, Renji-san? That you're... marrying Kuchiki-taichou?"

"I'm bein' recognized as his Consort, yeah," Renji answered gruffly. He knew that Rikichi had a crush on him - it was impossible not to know, really. The kid's hero-worship for him was noticeable enough that even Byakuya - once famous for his ability to ignore his own officers - had been well aware of it. As sweet as the boy was, though, Renji would never be able to think of him as anything other than a kid brother - he was too young, too sweet, too innocent. Rikichi had never suffered through loss and pain and sacrifice, never risked his life to protect what he loved.

Renji knew that he didn't want to be the one to break those fragile illusions, because he treasured them all the more for never having had them himself. But life had a way of taking such choices out of one's hands...

"I don't know if I'd call it a marriage, but he tells me it grants rights and recognition equivalent to those a spouse would receive," he added. It was an explanation he'd had to spit out more than once since Byakuya's announcement at the Captain's meeting; somebody in the ranks obviously wasn't keeping their mouth shut. Not that it mattered now, though; Byakuya never would have made the announcement if he wasn't ready for it to spread. "The ceremony's this evening."

"Yes, I know," Rikichi answered, a little awkwardly, bobbing his head in acknowledgement. "You're, um, you're leaving for the week, right?"

"Yeah..." Setting aside the completed evaluation, Renji sighed faintly as he took stock of his newly-cleared desk. He'd been working like a madman to complete all of the evaluations before his departure, so that he would not return to a greater backlog of work than absolutely necessary. "I'm stayin' over at the Kuchiki manor tonight so that I can be there for all the preparations. Ceremony's early evening, and we'll leave for... wherever... right afterwords."

"It's..." still staring down at his thumbs, Rikichi smiled faintly, his mouth quivering at the edges. "It's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Renji answered, just as softly. "Byakuya's a dream come true, y'know?"

"Yes," Rikichi answered, his voice startlingly firm as he raised his head. A single tear trailed down his face as he met Renji's gaze, but his voice was steady when he spoke. "I know, Abarai-taichou. I know."

Carefully pushing back from his chair, Rikichi stood up to bow formally to his Captain, who silently rose to return the gesture.

* * *

Renji didn't sleep that night. Even if he'd been given the opportunity, he doubted he would have been able to submit to the draw of unconsciousness. It mattered little, though; the ritual purifications that preceded the ceremony kept him fully occupied. When he arrived at the Kuchiki manor, he was directed to an isolated spot in the moonlit garden in order to begin his meditations. Several hours passed as Renji remained deep in his inner world, Zabimaru balanced across his knees. By the time one of the servants roused him from his meditations, though, he was as alert and well-rested as he would have been after a full night's sleep, and followed the silent man back to the main house without hesitation.

Once there, he calmly disrobed himself, surrendering his shihakusho to a waiting servant, and redressing himself in a clean fundoshi, a short, plain white yukata, and a simple white headband. Thus adorned, he slipped Zabimaru carefully into the sash of the robe and followed another servant out onto the still-dark grounds of the estate, pausing only long enough to slip his bare feet into a pair of thin sandals.

The walk was not a long one; down a low hill and along a white-graveled path, until the sound of running water became evident around the corner of the hill.

Silently, the servant bowed and took himself off back along the pathway, leaving Renji to continue forward on his own. Following the gentle curve of the path, he found himself standing before a small water basin erected on a short stone pedestal. Kneeling before it, he rinsed first his hands, then his mouth, with the clear water within the bowl before rising again to continue his way along the path.

One more turn, this one rounding a sharp downhill corner around the edge of a hillside, and Renji stepped forward into a small clearing that seemed like a corner of Paradise.

The top of the rocky hill was three times Renji's own height. The side of it, almost perfectly sheer and laced with flowering vines of every description, granted a majestic elegance to the glittering waterfall that cascaded down into a crystalline pool that in turn snaked its way out in a narrow stream.

The small, single lantern resting at the edge of the pool threw glittering shards of light off the constant spray of water droplets, giving the illusion of diamonds scattering in the air. Walking to the edge of the pool, Renji silently shed his yukata and sandals, took the still-sheathed Zabimaru in one hand, bowed once to the rush of water, and stepped beneath the flow of the waterfall.

The water was icy in the predawn air, and the shock of it drove the air from his lungs in a startled, gasping cough before he mastered himself again, centering his body under the rush. Slowly, he sought inward, finding the center of peace within himself and letting the water wash everything else away.

* * *

An hour later, wrapped in a clean yukata and with his hair still lying damp down his back, Renji hesitated awkwardly before the pale stone mausoleum, then shook his head, frowning slightly, and strode determinedly down the narrow steps.

The interior of the structure was claustrophobically small but immaculately clean; clearly, the houses of the departed were just as much a task for the Kuchiki servants as the houses of the present.

Kneeling before the graves of Kuchiki Amaya and Kuchiki Hisana, Byakuya's mother and wife, Renji bowed his head and spoke.

"Honored ladies... I'm... no kind of poet, an' I don't make a lot of speeches. But I know what both of ya meant to Byakuya, and that's why I'm here. There's a ceremony to recognize me as his Consort tonight, and I..." frowning, Renji stopped and shook his head. "If the pair of you can see me right now, you're probably both laughing your heads off at me babblin' to your graves, but I just wanted... to thank you both, for bein' with Byakuya when you were and doing everything you did for him. Amaya-san, I know you loved him as best you could, and I think that helped him survive what his father did.

"And Hisana-san, I owe you a lot of thanks... if you hadn't begged him to find Rukia, then he and I prob'ly wouldn't have met, and I wouldn't have become who I am, so... well, thanks."

Drawing a deep breath, Renji leaned forward slowly, pressing his hands and forehead against the cool floor. "I swear to both of you," he whispered against the stone beneath him, "that I will love Byakuya with every shred of my soul until the day I leave this world, and if I'm lucky, I'll keep lovin' him for every life after that, on and on until my soul ends."

Silently, he rocked back to his knees, folded his hands before him, and bowed once more to the two names carved in the mausoleum wall before rolling to his feet and quietly exiting the shrine.

He did not look back as he left, and so did not see the two pure white butterflies that fluttered out of the stone doorway, dancing joyously around one another in the air, rising higher and higher until they vanished into the golden light of the dawn.

* * *

A few hours later, a highly distracted Renji stepped out of the room he'd been shown to for further meditation and almost ran smack into Kuchiki Ginrei, who stepped backwards with a nimbleness that belied his age and nodded his acknowledgement to a furiously blushing Renji. The loud crash-clang from further down the hall that had brought Renji out in the first place quickly vanished from his mind as he bowed his apology to the former patriarch of the Kuchiki Clan.

"Sorry, Ginrei-san, I didn't mean -"

"I am quite certain it was not intentional, Renji-san," Ginrei answered calmly, glancing slightly behind him. The servant trailing him was bearing a tray, lightly loaded with a bowl of rice, another of miso soup, and a cup of green tea. "You have not eaten today?"

"No, sir," Renji answered, a bit weakly. He had not, in fact, eaten since lunchtime yesterday, and was beginning to feel quite lightheaded. A frigid dousing and several hours of meditation served well enough to keep him awake, but he had been missing far too many meals lately in order to keep up with his work. Now that attention had been drawn to it, he abruptly realized that his stomach was determinedly gnawing on his backbone, and grimaced at the sensation.

"I believe, therefore, that having the servants of the house to attend to your meals will not do you amiss," the old man frowned, nodding Renji back into the room ahead of him. When the redhead dropped gratefully onto a pillow before the table, Ginrei motioned the servant to set the tray down, and added calmly, "Please eat while I speak, Renji-san. I do not wish you to collapse from hunger before the ceremony, or my grandson will be most aggrieved."

"Thank you, sir," Renji answered sheepishly, and wasted no time in setting to. He was a bit more cautious of his manners than he would have been in his own home; the Kuchiki manor, in front of one of the oldest and most powerful Shinigami in history, was no place to eat like a starving mongrel, but damned if that wasn't what he felt like right now!

"I observed you at the mausoleum," Ginrei announced without preamble, and Renji promptly choked on his rice.

"Sir," Renji gasped when he could breathe again, "if I wasn't supposed to -"

Raising one hand, Ginrei cut off the beginning of Renji's frantic apology with a simple gesture. "Renji-san, the fact is that you, alone, of any who have attempted to court my grandson over the many years he has been eligible, thought to seek the blessing of the most beloved women of his life aside from Rukia-san." Pure-silver eyes bore steadily into Renji's over the table, the weight of the gaze as tangible as it was indefinable.

"I am here to offer you my blessing and welcome to the Kuchiki Clan, Abarai Renji." And with those words, one of the most powerful nobles in the Seireitei folded his hands and bowed deeply to a former dog of Rukongai.

"An attendant will be in shortly to see to your bath and dress," Ginrei added, straightening again. "The ceremony is in two hours. I look forward to being able to welcome you as my grandson."

With a final, short dip of his head, the man turned and exited the room, leaving Renji in the state of utter astonishment that seemed to come naturally from association with the Kuchiki clan.

* * *

Another hour passed, and the time shift found Renji drowsing on a low chair before a mirrored vanity, quietly enjoying the unaccustomed sensation of the attendant sliding a brush through his hair with steady strokes. Odd as it sounded, Renji hadn't actually realized how long his hair had grown - it was almost a hand's width past his waist, now - until the servant had commented on it.

The steady motions of the brush halted, and Renji blinked his eyes open to glance at the attendant in the mirror. "Done?" he asked mildly, and the man shook his head faintly in response.

"Not quite, Abarai-sama."

Frowning, Renji gave his head a minuscule shake, feeling the liquid sweep of his hair across his back. "What have you got left to do?" he asked, and frowned harder when the man reached for a small wooden box resting on the vanity table.

"These must be set, Abarai-sama, but it will take only a moment," the man explained, turning back the lid of the box, and Renji felt a cold jolt go through his chest at the sight of the white ornaments nestled in the velvet lining of the box.

"_No_," he said, more sharply than he'd intended, and the servant stopped short with the kenseikan in his hand. "I won't wear them," Renji said, his voice more controlled, and the man looked at him, brow creasing in bewilderment.

"You... refuse to wear the markers of nobility? I do not understand..."

"You were born here, weren't you?" Renji asked, waving a hand at the surrounding manor. When the man nodded, uncomprehending, Renji flashed teeth in a sharp-edged smile. "You never had a day when you didn't know where your next meal was comin' from, never had to fight to keep someone from slittin' your throat over a half-shredded blanket or a rotten piece a' meat," he continued mercilessly, and his not-smile widened a fraction when the servant turned slightly green, shaking his head. "I lived through all that, an' a helluva lot worse. 'm not a noble, no matter what your Clan records are gonna say. I'm Byakuya's partner, his Consort, whatever the hell you wanna call me, but one thing I've never done is pretend t' be somethin' I wasn't. Put that damned thing back in the box," he added softly, and the servant bowed deeply before obeying.

When the ornament was safely closed away, the servant gathered up the brush again, and resumed smoothing Renji's already-silken hair. "You are," he murmured, "a very remarkable man, Abarai-sama."

"Mmph," Renji answered, already dozing again under the man's ministrations. "Call me Renji."

* * *

"Renji!"

Chuckling weakly, he glanced at the door of the room, over the heads of the three servants who were running in circles around him and the low stool he was standing on. "C'mon in, Rukia, I'm decent," he called over the rapid-fire exchanges of the servants, and Rukia rolled the door back with a laugh.

"Nothing I haven't seen before anyway," she shot back at him, and Ichigo - standing behind her and looking distinctly uncomfortable in a full formal kimono of rich chocolate brown, accented with a pattern of gold, crimson and burgundy leaves - glowered fiercely at Renji over her head. Sensing the glare, Rukia reached behind her and smacked Ichigo in the stomach without looking, and he had to turn sharply away to avoid coughing all over the shoulder of her navy-blue silk kimono.

"We grew up together in Rukongai, Ichigo," Renji pointed out, grimacing when one of the attendants tugged a little to sharply on the cord binding his obi, threatening to squeeze the breath out of him. "Hey, lay off! That's tight enough!" he added sharply, and turned his attention back to Ichigo when the sash loosened to a more comfortable position again. "There wasn't a whole lot of privacy there. But she hasn't seen any of it recently... to the best of my knowledge," he growled when Rukia looked in the other direction, trying to plaster an expression of innocence onto her face and not quite succeeding.

"You look good, Renji," she said quietly, her head still turned, and Renji felt himself inexplicably blushing. Then again, how long had it been since his sharp-tongued little sister had actually paid him a compliment?

"Thanks," he answered gruffly, turning his own head aside as well - although he did so in order to watch his attendants, now retrieving his wedding haori from the hanging-rack on the far wall. Somewhat relieved, he stepped down from the stool and allowed two of the men to slip the garment into place, swatting them lightly away when both of them fussed madly with the collar. "You two look pretty damn good yourselves," he added, carefully unfastening the pins that had held his hair up and out of the way as he was dressed.

Rukia blushed at that - what was wrong with her today? - and toyed nervously with the sleeve of her kimono. It was not, Renji noted in surprise, a furisode kimono, the style with trailing, nearly floor-length sleeves that was typically worn by unattached young women, but a tomesode; the kimono of an adult woman. The trailing edges of the sleeves barely fell below her hips, and the design - a sweeping, wave-like pattern of pink, lavender, and white - was confined to the skirt of the kimono, beneath the matching obi. Only the five crests of the Kuchiki House marked the upper portion of the kimono.

"Byakuya had you wear that?" Renji asked, startled, and Rukia nodded quickly. That would explain a large part of why she was so nervous; the fact that Byakuya had ordered a tomesode laid out for her showed that although she and Ichigo were not yet joined, he considered their marriage a matter of record and beyond debate. Frowning slightly, Renji wondered for a moment if the Clan Council was rethinking their support of the union or if Byakuya was simply trying to make a point.

"You about done?" Ichigo asked, coming up to stand beside Rukia, and Renji nodded, plucking the hairbrush away from one of the hovering attendants and carefully swiping it through his own hair. He'd enjoyed having it brushed for him earlier, but the madcap pace that these men worked at had him worried that his hair would not survive their attentions.

"I think so, yeah," Renji replied, handing the brush back to the attendant and drawing a deep breath.

"Good," Ichigo grinned, "because the ceremony's about to start."

Swallowing nervously, Renji carefully straightened his necklace, his scarf, his haori, until Rukia swatted at his hands hard enough to make him hiss. She looked up at him, guilt flashing in her eyes, and Renji sighed to himself and leaned forward to drape a companionable arm around her shoulders. When Ichigo made an indignant, wordless sound of protest, Renji barked a laugh and slung his other arm over Ichigo's shoulders, dragging the boy briefly against his chest.

"C'mon," Renji said, grinning, and the three of them turned together and walked out the door.

* * *

The ceremony was being held in a small meeting room on the fringes of the manor. Renji had been in the room once before, and retained an impression of simple, austere elegance - off-white walls decorated with sparse but exquisite scroll paintings, tatami mats edged with white silk, and the sliding doors at the outside wall that opened to a spectacular view of sloping ground leading down to a glittering lake. Other than that, the most remarkable feature of the room were the two high pillars on the side wall, opulently painted with red and gold, obviously intended to hold a shrine between them.

Today, however, the small room had been transformed. Panels of sheer white cloth hid the near-barren walls, and swaths of brilliant red - the color of happiness - had been suspended from the ceiling around the edges of the walls. That was all Renji had time to notice, though, because there was a flash of color just inside his line of vision, and Renji automatically turned - only to stop short when he realized who he was seeing.

"Hisagi? Kira? Rikichi? What...?"

"Kuchiki-san invited us," Kira answered, smiling softly at the stunned expression on Renji's face. It had been his kimono - deep blue with a paler pattern of waves around his feet - that Renji had seen out of the corner of his eye. The piece suited Kira perfectly, bringing out the rich shade of his eyes. Shuuhei, standing beside him, had his rough fingers entwined with Kira's own, unabashed. The deep green kimono he wore, decorated around the hem with tiny, precisely detailed trees in a dozen shades of green and brown - suited his coloring as perfectly as Kira's did him. Rikichi, standing timidly a short distance away, wore deep brown and a nervous smile, but he looked genuinely happy when he met Renji's eyes.

"He said he thought you should have family present," Shuuhei added, his own eyes creasing at the corners in a faint smile, and Renji felt his breath catch at the back of his throat.

Half-turning, he found Byakuya without effort - even though the man was standing on the other side of the room, quietly speaking with his grandfather, he looked up as he felt Renji's eyes touch him. Without a word, he turned from Ginrei and crossed the floor to Renji, who reached out, catching the noble's hands as soon as they were within reach, and pulled the man to him.

"Byakuya," Renji whispered, pressing his face against the noble's soft hair, his voice shaking as gratitude overwhelmed him, "_thank you._"

"It is the least I can do, Renji," came the quiet response. "After all, they are your family - and it was you who gave me back my own."

And, looking over Byakuya's shoulder, Renji saw Ise Nanao step delicately in to the room from the outside walkway, and could not contain the smile that threatened to split his face.

* * *

A low, delicate wooden table had been placed before the beautiful pillars, carefully draped with white silk, with three large sitting cushions placed around it; two on the side facing into the room, and the third on the side facing the wall. Renji glanced at them in some curiosity; the near set was for himself and Byakuya, but the one on the far side of the table confused him. Shinigami ceremonies were not overseen by priests, and the brief, hurried rehearsal they had managed to accomplish did not cover the issue of who would be pouring the san-san-kudo for them.

"Is everyone ready?" Ukitake's voice asked from somewhere at the back of the room, shortly followed by, "Shunsui, stop scaring the musicians."

The trio of ga ga ku players, each with their delicate flute, had been settled on the veranda outside the room, in deference to the size of the room itself. With the sliding door open, they would be able to see the ceremony without difficulty, and their music would be just as easy to hear.

"I wasn't scaring them," Shunsui protested sourly, dodging around Kuchiki Fumio - who was clutching an enormous, leather-bound book to his chest - as he came back into the room. "Just reminding them of their duty to provide flawless music for the joining of the most powerful noble in the Seireitei to his chosen Consort -"

"Shunsui, you have not changed in the slightest," Ginrei remarked as he swept by. The blank tone of his voice made it impossible to tell whether it was a compliment or an insult, and Kyouraku played it safe by returning to his cushion and seating himself.

"Thank you, Ginrei-san," Ukitake murmured, as he quickly chivvied Kira, Hisagi, Rikichi, and a late-arriving Matsumoto ("Taichou sends his regards, Renji, but he couldn't make the ceremony,") towards Renji's side of the room to take their seats. Ginrei winked back at him from under one heavy eyebrow as he settled himself next to Ise Nanao, quietly leaning to speak to her as he did.

Smiling, Jyuushiro continued his duties - as the senior couple present, the responsibility to 'manage' the ceremony fell upon himself and Kyouraku, and both of them had thrown themselves into preparations with whole hearts. While it had been Byakuya who had elected the guest list - including his wayward half-sister - all else had fallen on Kyouraku, Ukitake, and Ginrei to accomplish.

The last guests to arrive were Fumio's grandfather, Kuchiki Norio; clearly a contemporary of Ginrei's even if he was not a Shinigami, and Shihoin Yoroichi, resplendent in an eggplant-colored kimono. Both of them were ushered to seats on Byakuya's side; Ichigo, after some obvious internal debate, went opposite them to Renji's, and sat down beside Kira. Ukitake was the last to seat himself.

Rukia, somewhat to Renji's surprise, did not sit with the other guests, but went to the front of the room, rounded the table, and settled herself in perfect seiza on the single cushion.

Smiling to himself, Renji reached out his hand and found Byakuya's. As their fingers intertwined, the two men stepped forward together as the high music of the flutes began outside. As one, they sank to their knees on the cushions before the table, bowing their heads to Rukia. Picking up the first of the cups - the gleaming silver pale against her delicate fingers - she bowed back and gently settled the cup into Renji's hands. With intense concentration, she lifted the teapot-like sake container, carefully pouring three perfect sips into the tiny cup. Nodding, Renji lifted it to his lips and slowly drank.

From his hands, the empty cup was settled carefully into Byakuya's, and Rukia poured again, her hands perfectly steady even as her brother's trembled.

The second cup, slightly larger than the one before, was handed to Byakuya first, and he drank the three measured sips slowly before turning to place the cup in Renji's hands. His fingers were cold, Renji noticed; Byakuya was just as scared of this all as he was. It shouldn't have been a comfort, but somehow, absurdly, it was. Still...

There wasn't much thought, if any, behind the action, just impulse. Leaning forward, Renji caught Byakuya by surprise and planted a tiny kiss on the very tip of his nose. Startled, Byakuya stared at him for a brief moment, before the stone-like composure of his face cracked enough to permit a tiny grin.

Behind them, he heard Kyouraku giggle and Matsumoto coo, and ignored both of them in favor of holding the cup out for Rukia to refill. She did so, grinning broadly, and Renji drank the sake down without hesitation.

The third cup was set in his hands, and he stared down at the gleaming silver cup as Rukia tipped the cool sake into it. Funny, how something barely big enough to fill his palms could carry such an enormous meaning behind it...

In one smooth motion, Renji lifted it to his lips and drank.

When he gave the cup to Byakuya, the other man's hands were not trembling at all.

With the faint smile still on his face, Byakuya raised the cup, the gleam of silver bright against his fingers, and swallowed the three sips of sake it contained while Rukia grinned madly at them both.


	24. Continued Evolution

A/N: Well, a seven-month legacy is almost at an end... this is the second-to-last chapter of Red Duty, Black Honor.

For those of you that missed the memo, though, don't worry! I've already got a sequel in the works, and it will take over RDBH's weekly posting schedule. Bonds of Honor will begin posting either one or two weeks after RDBH's wrap next week - work is stealing my writing time, and I may need to take an extra week in order to get the new story polished a little, but it will settle right in to the weekly Wednesday posts. Hope to see you all there - you guys are the best!

Also, to my reviewers: I sincerely apologize for not replying to your comments as I normally do, one of my jobs has gotten completely out of control and is eating up a great deal of my time. Hopefully it will get itself sorted out soon; in the meantime, please know I am not ignoring you intentionally!

Warnings for this chapter: Multiple references to, though no description of, underage sexual situations.

Masa: Men's name, in this case meaning 'governing/political [man]'

Azumi: Woman's name meaning 'safe residence'

* * *

** RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 23: Continued Evolution

The morning after Byakuya and Renji's ceremony, Kira paused before Ichigo's desk, a hesitant frown marring his features as he chewed his lower lip. It was a sign of how worried he was that he barely spared a glance for the cat that had tucked itself neatly onto the corner of the desk. The cat, for its part, blinked slowly at him, boredom clear in its lambent-gold eyes.

"You need something, Kira?" Ichigo asked, not looking up from the personnel evaluation he was filling out. How Renji had managed to finish his, working alone, in under two weeks, was completely beyond Ichigo, as he and Kira, working together, were barely three-quarters of the way through the damed things. Then again, Renji had been missing a lot of meals and even more sleep to take care of the duties of his Squad...

Ichigo smirked faintly as he thumped his signature-stamp against the bottom of the report. A week-long honeymoon to the outlying Kuchiki mountain estate would be the best thing in the world for the overworked Captain of the Fifth - the staff would see to meals and Byakuya would probably ensure that the pair spent plenty of time in bed. Whether or not they got any rest while they were there, however...

Shoving the form aside, Ichigo raised his head to look at his Lieutenant, then scowled and waved a hand in front of the man's face. Startled, Kira jumped sharply, babbled a barely-coherent apology, and would have bowed as well if Ichigo hadn't waved him to silence.

"Kira, whatever it is, the worst I can do is say 'no,' right? So what is it?"

"I..." Rubbing a hand nervously through his shortened hair, Kira kept his gaze fixed on the legs of Ichigo's desk. "I needed to request a bit more time off, sir."

"For Bankai training." It was a statement, not a question, and Kira jumped like he'd been stung, guilt and astonishment warring for domination on his face.

"H-how did you -?"

"Kira, relax. You said you wanted to take command of the Third, right?" When the blond nodded faintly, Ichigo shrugged in reply. "In order to reach Captaincy, you need to achieve Bankai. I've been expecting you to ask for training time for a while now. Do you have a partner to train with?"

"Other than Wabisuke, you mean? No," Kira answered, feeling unwontedly sheepish. He'd been agonizing for days now - ever since he'd returned from his vacation with Shuuhei - about how to request the time he needed to train, and in his worry, had managed to forget that he was dealing with the blunt, straightforward Ichigo, rather than his Machiavellian former Captain.

"In that case..." said the cat, clearly amused, and Kira barely had time to register that _the cat was talking _before he felt a wild surge of reiatsu, and Shihoin Yoroichi was sitting on the corner of Ichigo's desk.

Naked.

Blushing furiously, Kira immediately averted his eyes, although not in time to avoid noticing the magnificent tribal sun tattoo spread across her left thigh.

Ichigo - his attention back on his paperwork - pulled his Captain's haori from the back of the chair where he'd draped it and threw it at Yoroichi's head. "Would you at least pretend to have some decency?"

"Aww, where would the fun be in that?" Yoroichi cooed back, slipping off the corner of the desk and very carefully shaking the haori out before slipping it over her shoulders and folding it around herself in an approximation of modesty. As it had been cut for Ichigo's broad shoulders, it was enough to shield the pertinent bits. "Besides, you boys both blush so nicely!"

Kira - as though proving her point - had managed to turn roughly the same shade as Renji's hair. Ichigo risked a glance up, saw that Yoroichi was at least covered, and raised his head to look Kira in the eye.

"Shuuhei managed it in about three weeks. I'll give you the same amount of time. Yoroichi's willing to help you with the training, and I know she has access to an underground cave near your mountain house. Go and pack whatever you need, and you can leave as soon as you're ready."

"I... now?" Kira managed, astonishment freezing his tongue, and Ichigo glared at him in exasperation.

"Yes, Kira-fukutaichou. Effective immediately, you are on a three-week training leave. Now, shoo," Ichigo added, dropping his gaze to the paperwork again. "And I don't want to see you back in this office until you've achieved Bankai, is that clear?"

Stunned, Kira stared at his Captain for a long moment before a laugh bubbled its way out of his throat. "Yes, sir," he replied, bowed briefly, and walked out of the office. Behind him, he felt a sharp 'pop' of Yoroichi's reiatsu, and was not surprised when the slight weight of her cat form landed on his shoulder a moment later.

"I have a feeling," she murmured to him, voice deep in her cat form, "that I'm going to have fun with you."

Blushing harder than ever, Kira headed for his quarters to pack. A well-worn photograph of himself and Shuuhei, dating back to their time in the Academy, was the first thing he slipped into his bag.

* * *

Lying on his side on the soft futon, Renji ran his callused fingers lightly over the intricate patterns of Byakuya's Zanpakutou mark, tracing the arcs and angles of the exquisite image with the same care and precision Byakuya had used earlier, tracing along Renji's own marks - albeit Byakuya had been quite willing to use his mouth in those explorations, as well as his fingers. Renji had never before appreciated the locations of some of his marks quite so much.

"I've wanted t' do this since the first moment you showed me your mark," Renji remarked absently, tracing his fingers down the trunk of the tree, down Byakuya's spine, and letting his touch follow the roots of the tree along the firm arch of Byakuya's buttocks.

"And why did you not, in that moment?" Byakuya murmured in response, his voice sleep-heavy and weighted with satisfaction. He, like Renji, was lying on his side, one arm folded beneath his pillow to further support his head. The other arm was draped languidly over his hip, and the soft light from the lamp behind Renji shimmered on the delicate silver scars that marked it.

"In that moment?" Renji echoed with a snort, skimming his hand back up the length of the marking to stroke a spiderweb-like scar on the other man's left shoulder. " 'Cause a couple hours before 'that moment,' I was pretty well convinced you were gonna turn me into ground meat, remember? Hell, Byakuya, I'm still gettin' used to the fact I'm allowed to touch you at all!"

"Touching is not simply allowed, but encouraged," Byakuya murmured back, arching a little into Renji's fingers. The redhead chuckled, and resumed tracing the intricate silver lines of the mark.

* * *

It was strange, Byakuya thought, as he let himself drift on the pleasure of Renji stroking his back, how very different intimacy could be with someone as passionate as Renji.

In his life, he had taken very few lovers - he had been 'initiated' to the sensual world by a courtesan, as was traditional in the noble houses, as soon as he was old enough to perform. It had been only weeks after that when he had knelt before his mentor and sworn his Shudo oaths - had an entire century truly passed since that time?

Aside from those two, the single night with the female and two decades with his male Sensei, before tonight, his only other intimate companion had been Hisana.

The few times he had lain with Hisana had been slow and quiet affairs, with Byakuya carefully restraining himself in deference to Hisana's poor health and frail body. Never had their lovemaking left his body singing with the aftermath, left Byakuya struggling to remember how to speak, how to think, how to even _breathe_.

Certainly it had never left a bite mark blooming across the tender flesh at the top of his shoulder, either. He could feel the faint throb of the forming bruise beneath his skin, and absently raised his hand from where it rested at his hip to trace over the perfect impression of teeth again.

Rough fingers tangled with his own as he touched it. "I'm sorry," Renji whispered, sounding painfully guilty as he delicately traced the edges of the forming bruise. "I lost control. I never should have -"

"_Renji_," Byakuya said firmly, cutting him off. "I am not objecting." When he heard Renji's sharp silence behind him, he continued simply, "I have never been marked in this manner before, and I was simply curious of the sensation."

"...never?" Renji repeated after a moment, his fingers resuming their slow trace, this time around the edges of the bruise. "Sir, can I ask you... how many people have you been with?"

"You are the fourth," Byakuya replied quietly, "as well as the second, and the first."

"Eh?"

"You are the fourth person in my lifetime with whom I have been intimate," Byakuya clarified slowly, rolling onto his back and keeping his gaze carefully on the ceiling. "You are the second male. And you are the first person... who truly desired me."

For a moment, there was utter silence at his shoulder, not even the sound of breathing. And then Renji's hand tightened on his own, and the redhead leaned over Byakuya, curtaining them both in his crimson hair as he stared down into Byakuya's eyes.

"I guess that makes us each other's firsts, then," Renji said softly. When an inquiring noise answered him, he gave a soft, faintly bitter laugh and dipped his head until his nose rested against Byakuya's throat. "I was a Rukongai whore, Byakuya," he said softly, voice muffled against the pale skin. "That's not the kind of person someone goes to for affection."

"In the years since you have reached the Seireitei, you never...?"

Mutely, Renji shook his head, his hair slipping across Byakuya's chest as he did so. "No. Did m' fair share of holdin' friends when they needed a shoulder to cry on, but I was so damned determined to put my past behind me that I never let it go beyond that. Haven't been with anyone but m' own hand since I left Inuzuri," he added sheepishly, rolling onto his back again, and Byakuya would have sworn he could actually _hear_ the other man blushing.

"Considering the dedication you have displayed towards improving yourself, I cannot confess that I am surprised," Byakuya answered, finally rolling his head to the side so that he could watch the bright flush fade from Renji's face. "Would that all officers trained as you did."

"If that happened, you'd have a hundred Bankai-capable officers in every Division," Renji chuckled, squeezing Byakuya's hand lightly.

"I fail to see how that is necessarily undesirable..."

Renji snorted softly in response. "If everyone can do it, what keeps us Captains special, huh?" he countered, his thumb rubbing soothingly across the back of Byakuya's hand.

"Senbonzakura knew," Byakuya remarked, and the non-sequitur had Renji blinking at him for a moment. "The first time we met - when I passed you in the halls of the Academy. You believed I did not see you then, but the truth is I have never forgotten you in that moment," he confessed softly, rolling his head back so that his gaze found the ceiling again. "And the moment I passed you, Senbonzakura said to me, 'Beware of that child, for one day he will defeat you.' "

A moment of silence hung long in the air between them, Renji's hand fallen still against Byakuya's own, until he finally dragged his voice from under the mass of astonishment that had just landed upon it. "You're kidding, right?"

"I am not."

"You must have been furious," Renji chuckled, his fingers skimming the length of Byakuya's arm to gently rub the scarred insides of the delicate wrists. "You weren't even a Captain then, and your own Zanpakutou was telling you that some Inuzuri dog was going to beat you..."

"No," Byakuya replied musingly, his gaze still steady on the ceiling. "I was not angry, because I knew the words were true. Even then, the potential that could be sensed in your reiatsu was enormous. It was clear to me that Senbonzakura was right."

When shock stole Renji's tongue for a second time, Byakuya casually rolled onto his stomach, displaying his back to the other man in a silent but open invitation. Taking the hint, Renji rolled sideways, propping himself on one elbow, and began gently stroking the mark again.

* * *

"Tickles," came the sleepy murmur, a few minutes later, and Renji blinked himself out of the half-trance he'd somehow managed. He had known before he started that touching Byakuya would be addictive - apparently, it was hypnotizing as well.

"Sorry," he answered absently, firming the strokes slightly, and Byakuya mumbled a negation into the pillow.

"Do not apologize. I find it pleasing."

_He likes to be tickled? _Renji thought, bewildered, but mentally shrugged as he lightened his touch again.

"Still tickles," the sleepy voice informed him, and Renji snorted in exasperation.

"If you like it, don't complain about it!"

There was a brief pause before Byakuya lifted his head from the pillow, turning to blink at Renji in confusion. "What, exactly, are you referring to? I have not spoken a word of complaint."

"You keep saying it tickles," Renji shot back, and Byakuya went very, very still.

"Sir?"

"Renji," Byakuya said slowly, "those were not my words."

"I know I heard -"

"_Senbonzakura_ said it tickled."

"...you have got to be fucking kidding me," Renji whispered, when he finally caught his breath back. "Your Zanpakutou is talking to me?"

"At the very least, it would appear you are capable of overhearing him."

Disbelieving, Renji shook his head. "But there's no way - wait. Senbonzakura's a _guy_?"

Byakuya sighed faintly. That was always the reaction people had to finding out his Zanpakutou's gender, which gave him exceptionally good incentive to avoid the use of gender-specific pronouns. "He is."

Chuckling weakly, Renji held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Well, no offense, sir, but pink flower petals ain't exactly the epitome of manliness, y'know?"

"I can assure you, you are not the first person to inform me of the fact," Byakuya replied with very faint annoyance, extending one thin forefinger and tracing it along the jagged line dancing down Renji's abdomen. The shiver of reiatsu left in the wake of his touch jerked Zabimaru out of the half-doze he'd been in since they arrived at the mountain estate the night before.

"_Who calls?"_ the baboon half of the nue grumbled, lifting his head to scent the air. The snake half, meanwhile, was not so tactful.

"_Go away! We're trying to sleep!"_

Byakuya's eyebrows arched sharply, and Renji grinned, despite the incredulity that was making his head spin. Even if the marks were connected to the Zanpakutou, it seemed unlikely that... "You can hear them, can't you?"

"I can," Byakuya answered, his own voice soft with disbelief, and Renji reached out, setting his hand flat against the center of Byakuya's mark.

"_Senbonzakura_?" he called mentally, carefully seeking that deadly, cherry-blossom scented power that nestled at the core of Byakuya's soul, and he felt a tremor run through him when that power rose at his call.

Beside him, Byakuya shuddered, his hand shifting to spread across the tattoos marking Renji's ribs, and the swift pulse of Senbonzakura's energy raised Zabimaru until it felt like the nue was pressing against the inside of Renji's skin.

The power of the two Zanpakutou rose like a tsunami over the two Shinigami, and the very air around them began to crackle with a near-electric charge, the pressure of energy building and building until the wave of power finally crashed down.

As the raw, scorching energy arced through himself and Byakuya, Renji only had time to register '_I had no idea we had this kind of power,'_ before the world went black.

* * *

In Karakura Town, Ichimaru Gin silently scaled the rusting ladder up the fire escape of the old apartment building. It took him only seconds to cross the gritty, dust-choked roof to his 'spot' on the far side, a section of roof moderately less uncomfortable than the rest, with a good view of the girl's window.

She was still sitting in the rocking chair beneath the window, the slim volume of baby-names she'd been reading through in previous days now replaced by a book on the history of Japanese theatre, which she read with a quiet intensity, one hand resting absently on her swollen abdomen.

Gin remained settled in his chosen spot, watching her in silence for over an hour before quietly rising to his feet and leaving without a backwards glance.

Within his mother's womb, the baby shifted angrily.

* * *

"Son of a _bitch_ that hurts!"

An inarticulate half-groan answered him, and Renji pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking down at Byakuya as the noble's eyes fluttered open. "You okay?"

"I have been better," came the flat reply, as Byakuya very carefully rolled over and waited a long moment before sitting up. When he did, though, his eyes flickered past Renji and towards the end of the futon, narrowing slightly. "Why are you here?"

Renji turned sharply, mouth open in a mix of indignation and surprise as he took in the Goddess of Flash, sitting quietly on the floor just beyond their mattress, arms and legs folded, watching them with a stony expression.

"What do you want, Yoroichi?"

"_Other_ than a peep show?" Renji added irritably, jerking the covers up enough to protect his and Byakuya's modesty. The Shihoin princess did not immediately respond, simply frowned at them for a moment, until Byakuya leveled a glare in her direction.

"Shihoin Yoroichi, you will explain your presence immediately, or I will have you ejected from the property."

"Whatever the hell you two did knocked out every one of the servants, so if you want to eject me, you'll have to do it yourself," she countered, her voice sharp-edged and cold. Renji blinked, confusion quickly giving way to alarm, and shot a glance at Byakuya. The other man was staring at his childhood friend, his expression as unreadable as her own.

"And what exactly is it that you believe we have done?"

"Don't play a fool to me, Byakuya," she snapped back, leaping to her feet in a movement that their eyes couldn't follow. "I felt that damned reiatsu blast - hell, they probably felt it back in Seireitei!"

"Seireitei's five hours from here at Shunpo speeds," Renji objected. "There's no way - "

Furious amber eyes leveled with his own. "You've been unconscious for six hours, Renji. That's how strong the feedback was."

Byakuya went still beside him, and Renji gaped at her for a long moment before finding his voice.

"...fuck," he managed succinctly, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a cautious knock sounded at the door of the bedroom. "I thought you said all the servants -"

" - have been treated," Kira Izuru finished for him, slipping carefully through the door, a tea tray balanced on one hand. "They will be on their feet within another hour or so. Are you well, Renji-san, Kuchiki-san?"

"I will survive," Byakuya replied levelly, carefully sitting up straighter in the bed. "Although I was not anticipating houseguests."

"Aa... apologies, Kuchiki-san. I was in the area, and Yoroichi-san and I felt your reiatsu blast and thought we should investigate," Kira answered carefully, pouring a cup of tea for each of them and handing them over with a bow. Byakuya, apparently quite unbothered with the impropriety of being served tea by an uninvited colleague while naked in bed, calmly accepted the cup and sipped slowly from it. Renji, however, took the cup and stared at his friend in disbelief.

"Kira, what the fuck d'you mean, 'in the area'? We're hours from Seireitei, an' I know the Third's still not back on active status, so you're not gonna be patrolling..."

"He's training," Yoroichi interrupted. "Drink your tea, it's a healing brew."

"Knew that," Renji answered, a bit tersely. He'd recognized the smell of it - one of Unohana's preferred all-heal brews. He took a cautious sip of it and was pleased to find that Kira took the time to sweeten the bitter tea with honey, something Unohana rarely did. He took a larger mouthful, swallowed, and turned back to Kira. "And what the hell kind of 'training' are you -"

"I'm training for Bankai, Renji-san. Ichigo-taichou placed me on training leave early this morning, and Yoroichi-san volunteered to help me. We've been working out of the cavern near my old family home - it's not far from here."

"How many training caverns does Urahara have, anyway?" Renji asked, meaning it rhetorically and somehow annoyed when Yoroichi promptly informed him there were twenty-seven.

"Kisuke's idiosyncrasies aside, I still want to know what the hell it was you two did to cause that surge," Yoroichi said, her voice still sharp as she accepted a cup of tea from Kira and slowly sat down again.

"I tickled Senbonzakura, and I think our Zanpakutou orgasmed," Renji answered absently, ignoring the incredulous disbelief on Kira and Yoroichi's faces as he turned his focus inward, searching for Zabimaru. Much to his relief, he found the nue within his soul, soundly asleep. Concerned, he prodded the creature until it awoke, proving itself to be entirely unharmed, although the snake promptly began cursing fit to scorch even Renji's ears.

Beside him, Byakuya raised one hand carefully to his head and went still, his gaze turning inward for a moment as he spoke to his Zanpakutou as well. Although he couldn't hear Byakuya's half of the query, Renji wasn't as surprised as he probably should have been when he heard Senbonzakura's response - _"I do not know what happened, Byakuya-sama," - _just as clearly as he heard the curses Zabimaru's snake half was still muttering in his mind.

Nor was he particularly surprised when Byakuya arched an eyebrow at him and commented that his Zanpakutou had a foul mouth.

* * *

"So, Kira's training for Bankai, huh?" Renji mused several days later, his steady Shunpo strides keeping him easily next to Byakuya as the pair of them headed back to Seireitei. "I'm glad. He's a good guy, and when he gets some spine back, he'll make a damned good leader."

"No doubt Kurosaki will appreciate being able to abdicate responsibility for paperwork," Byakuya remarked dryly. Renji snorted a laugh and continued leaping steadily for home.

* * *

Over an hour later, the pair of them alighted in the private gardens outside Byakuya's suite at the main Kuchiki house, their careful landing barely rustling the leaves in their wake.

"Your Shunpo skills have improved," Byakuya remarked, and Renji couldn't help but grin slightly at the observation-veiled compliment.

"Thanks," he answered, "I -"

"Byakuya-sama!" The door leading out from Byakuya's sitting-room was shoved open so forcefully it nearly sprang from the tracks, and a slim figure burst out the door. It took Renji a moment to recognize the maidservant, Riko; he had never seen the eternally-poised woman so undone. Stray tendrils of hair had come loose from her neat bun, the simple makeup she wore was smudged around her eyes, and the cuffs of her uniform kimono were wrinkled, as though she had been pulling at them. "Byakuya-sama, Renji-sama," she gasped, stopping before them and bowing deeply. "The Council of Elders -"

"I understand," Byakuya interrupted calmly, holding up a hand to silence her. "It was anticipated. Please have clean shihakusho for Abarai-taichou and myself brought to my quarters immediately, and inform the Council that I will attend them once I am presentable. In the meantime," he added, his eyes cooling until they resembled frozen steel, "they may _wait_."

"Right away, Byakuya-sama," Riko answered, bowing again and taking herself out of the garden at as near a run as the kimono would allow.

"They're raising hell about us, aren't they?" Renji asked, a wave of guilt overcoming him as he looked at the graceful man in front of him. Byakuya's slender strength was deceptive; he was easily as powerful as any Captain who had ever held the office - but that did not assuage the guilt of having helped to place more burdens on his shoulders.

"They will try," came the calm response, and Renji quietly followed Byakuya up the steps to the veranda and into his quarters. "But it will be nothing compared to what we shall unleash on _them_."

* * *

It did not take long for the two of them, both accustomed to hurried ablutions, to wash the dust and sweat of travel from their bodies and don the clean shihakusho that appeared, as ordered, only moments after they entered the room. Renji jerked a brush through his hair and shrugged his haori into place faster than he would have thought possible, then glanced behind him to check Byakuya's progress. Much to his surprise, the man was still sitting at his dressing table, quietly reweaving the triple kenseikan into his freshly-brushed hair. The double kenseikan that usually rested behind his right temple was still sitting on the table.

"Byakuya, shouldn't we be -"

"The Council may wait upon my discretion, Renji. Though they may forget it, I am the leader of the Kuchiki Clan. Come here," he added, sweeping his bangs into place and rising from his seat.

"Sir?"

"Renji, if you insist on continuing to call me 'sir,' the least you can do is obey my requests."

Without further comment, Renji took Byakuya's place at the table, glancing warily at the kenseikan still resting there before meeting Byakuya's reflected gaze in the mirror. "Are you plannin' on -"

"Proving a point," Byakuya answered steadily, brushing his fingers over the ornamental piece. Renji sighed softly, closed his eyes, and nodded for Byakuya do what he willed.

The first stroke of the brush startled him. Byakuya's touch was lighter than that of the attendant who had fixed Renji's hair before the ceremony, and the long fingers were surprisingly deft. The knots that Renji's hurried brushing had missed were quickly found and teased out, the brush then set back on the table with a soft tap, and Renji heard the scrape of ceramic against wood as the kenseikan were lifted.

"I was granted the position of Clan Head very young," Byakuya said softly, his fingers brushing gently against Renji's scalp as he carefully parted the redhead's hair. Renji felt the teeth of a comb separate the strands and wondered briefly when Byakuya had picked one up. "My youth, and my inexperience in truly leading the Clan, made that a mistake on my Grandfather's part, one of the very few he has ever made. I was not yet prepared for the demands the position would bring, and I was only a few short years from gaining Captaincy of the Sixth.

"I was not able to serve both masters, my House and my Squad, to the degree that they both demanded. As such, I allowed the Council a great deal of control, far more than they had been accustomed to under Jii-sama's leadership." He paused, and Renji felt a few gentle tugs at his hair, the odd weight of the kenseikan settling into place. He had handled the ornaments before, but it felt far heavier now than it had in his hands.

"The few times I exerted the full degree of my strength as Clan Head were when I elected to marry Hisana, and then again, when I adopted Rukia." Another gentle tug, a careful twist, and a lock of hair tickled Renji's nose for a moment before it was pulled away again. "After I had adopted Rukia and fulfilled Hisana's desire of me, I surrendered any semblance of being Clan Leader in more than name. For the past decades, the Kuchiki Clan has been governed almost solely by the Council, and I have allowed myself to be reduced to a mere figurehead." Another tug-twist-tickle of his hair, and then Byakuya's hands settled briefly on Renji's shoulders. "After today, I will be a figurehead no longer. Open your eyes, Renji."

He did so, slowly, and frowned at his reflection. Byakuya had woven the kenseikan onto the top of his head, above his left eye, and they looked... alien. The smooth, stark whiteness was painfully evident against the crimson of his hair, and the pale, simple curve of the things were such a marked contrast to the sharp black lines marking his forehead that he felt a momentary urge to tear them away and shatter them.

Silver eyes caught his in the mirror, and Renji felt his anger shift as he met Byakuya's gaze. Faint lines were creasing the skin around the man's mouth and eyes, and, as attuned as he was to the other man's reiatsu, Renji could sense the tightly-coiled tension in him. Byakuya and these damned pieces of porcelain didn't deserve his anger - the Council, however, did.

"Come on," Renji grinned, pushing himself out of the chair and extending his hand to Byakuya. "We have a Council to educate."

A faint, grateful smile touched Byakuya's mouth as he took the proffered hand.

* * *

Rukia met the two of them at the door of the meeting hall, looking as though she's been doing a lot of worrying. "Nii-sama, the Council's furious, they're demanding that you -" she blinked, paused, and blinked again. "Renji, you're wearing kenseikan."

"Trust me, I noticed," he answered sourly, one hand resting on Zabimaru's hilt. Beside him, Byakuya stood patiently, Senbonzakura absent from his belt. Renji had voiced his concern when Byakuya had left the room without his blade, but the noble had merely shaken his head in response. 'Senbonzakura is always by my side at need,' he'd said simply, but he'd shaken his head again when Renji had asked if he should lay aside Zabimaru.

Rukia huffed at him, then turned back to face her adoptive brother. "Nii-sama, the Council is demanding -"

"- that I annul my union with Renji and come to heel like a well-trained dog, no doubt."

"Ah..." Blinking, Rukia nodded slowly. "Not in those exact words, Nii-sama, but yes."

"I expected as much. Come," he added imperiously, and strode forward. The waiting guards rolled back the doors of the Council Hall with all haste, and Byakuya entered the Hall with Rukia and Renji at his sides, hands steady on the hilts of their Zanpakutou.

"The Council will come to order," Byakuya announced coldly as he strode through the doors. He took his seat without pause, leaving the other occupants of the room scrambling for their own.

A scowl deep on his face, Renji let his gaze roam over the faces ringing the table. There were not many there that he recognized; Ginrei, of course, was at the far end of the table, his eyes closed and a very faint smile on his mouth, mostly hidden by his mustache. There was another man, halfway down the table on the left, who looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't until Renji spotted Fumio lingering in the corner, a sheet of paper spread across the lap-desk propped up on his thighs, that the man's identity registered; Kuchiki Norio, Fumio's grandfather and the Chief Archivist for the Clan. The man glanced up from the papers at his elbow, met Renji's gaze for the barest of seconds, and lowered his head again - but not before casting an almost too-quick-to-catch wink in Renji's direction.

Huffing a sigh of relief under his breath, Renji relaxed by a half a degree. At least that was one more person on their side.

"Kuchiki Byakuya," began a particularly pompous-looking Elder, rising back to his feet. Renji blinked, faintly startled; something about that man was very familiar, his silver hair still streaked with pewter and his dark eyes cold in that elegant face... Narrowing his eyes, Renji searched his memory. This was not the first time he had encountered that man, he knew it, but if he could only remember where he had first seen him...

"The Council has gathered in response to your outrageous actions," the man began, his chest swelling with self-importance as he glared down at his leader. "We, the Kuchiki Council, are demanding that you annul this preposterous union immediately -"

"I am afraid that is quite impossible, Masa-san," Byakuya interrupted, his voice level as ever despite the wicked gleam in his eyes. "The union has already been consummated."

"_Repeatedly_," Zabimaru added dryly, and Renji bit his lip to stop from snickering when Byakuya shot a look at him from the corner of his eye, having heard the comment just as clearly as Renji.

"That is entirely unacceptable!" the man snapped back, jabbing a finger in Renji's direction, although he kept his eyes locked on Byakuya's. "That, that - piece of Rukon _trash_ is a completely unacceptable partner for a man who bears the honor of the Kuchiki clan on his shoulders! Anyone who has made his living selling out his body -"

_That was it!_ "I thought I recognized you, Kuchiki Masa," Renji said, his voice pitched low. On the other side of the table, the man stopped short, his face paling as he looked towards Renji for the first time since he had entered the room.

"I knew, when you spoke, that I had seen you before," Renji said, his voice sharpening slightly as he, too, rose from the table. "And when you mentioned my selling myself, I knew why I recognized you." An expression of cool indifference plastered on his face, he let his eyes slide around the table, coolly holding the gaze of any who met his eyes. "For anyone here who doesn't already know, Kuchiki Masa is telling the truth; as a child, I whored in Rukongai."

Ignoring the low murmurs that sprang up at his statement, Renji continued. "It was a matter of survival. The funds and protection I earned from selling myself helped keep my friends safe and fed."

"I will attest to this," Rukia spoke up, her voice clear and cold. "Renji was the one who provided for all of us, myself included. It is only thanks to his protection that I escaped Rukongai with my virtue intact."

Another round of murmurs sprang up, but Renji spoke over them. "I was a whore. I freely admit that. But for me, it was nothing more than a means to survival for myself and the only family I knew." Garnet eyes narrowed and chilled as they turned back to Kuchiki Masa, who was trembling with what was either fury or fear. "But I sold my body - I wasn't in the habit of buying."

"You- you filthy piece of refuse!" Masa snarled, his face going deathly white with fury. Clenched fists spasmed at his sides. "How dare you think to address me directly, you worthless -"

"Kuchiki Masa, you will silence yourself or risk a duel of honor!" Byakuya broke in. His voice, though no louder than it ever was, somehow rang throughout the spacious hall, shocking Masa to silence for the briefest of seconds, until he spun on his own leader, eyes flashing in fury.

"Kuchiki Byakuya, you have no longer have the right to claim honor! You consort with whores and bastard garbage - you are truly your father's son!"

It was a blow that struck deep - Byakuya's face paled, his eyes widening a fraction as his breath caught. It took Renji only a split-second's glance at his lover's face to tell him how much that single comment had wounded him.

The ring of drawn steel silenced the Hall.

* * *

"I _was_ a Rukongai whore," Renji repeated, his voice soft in the sudden silence.

Zabimaru, still in its sealed form, was held steady in his hand, point leveled across the table, directly at Masa's heart. "But I am now a Captain of the Gotei, Zanpakutou-marked, recognized prodigy, and a hero of the Winter War. I will no longer be dismissed by the likes of you, Kuchiki Masa." He waited a moment for the words to sink in, then added, his voice calm and level, "And if you ever insult Byakuya like that again, I will use my position as his Consort to challenge you to a duel in the name of his honor. I trust you can understand that?"

"The Council -" trembling, Masa licked his lips, eyes never leaving the point of the sword that was leveled at him, despite the width of the table between it and he. "The Council will never recognize you as Consort!"

"The union," came Byakuya's cool voice, much more level than his still-trembling hands would suggest, "was witnessed and approved by both Kuchiki Ginrei, former Clan Head, and the current Chief Archivist, Kuchiki Norio. The Council is overruled. My union with Abarai Renji is already a matter of record."

Several members of the Council looked nothing short of mutinous at that statement, and Masa - ignoring the cold looks he was getting from several of the other members, pointed a shaking finger at Byakuya again.

"You _dare_ to debase the honor of the Kuchiki Clan by making this a matter of record without approval or precedent?" he all but shouted, and Renji - much to everyone's surprise, burst out laughing and sheathed Zabimaru in one smooth motion.

"You sure as Hell don't know your family history, Masa," Renji snickered. "Kinda sad when a Rukon whore's more educated than you, isn' it?"

"I have no idea what you seek to imply -"

"Kuchiki Tatsuo and Okiayu-Taichou," Renji answered simply, and Masa very quietly closed his mouth and sat down, folding his hands in his lap and bowing his head.

"Kuchiki Tatsuo was born a simple man," Renji began calmly, his voice carrying easily through the room as he let his eyes half-close, remembering the story of this family's history. "But he was a wise man and a good one, and was soon granted a noble title by the Spirit King himself, in recognition for his services to the newborn Seireitei. He married a daughter of the Shiba Clan, a noble to suit his status as a new and far-reaching noble, but those weren't times of peace, and his wife was killed in a battle less than a year after their marriage.

"He had really loved her," Renji added softly, opening his eyes and letting his gaze circle the table again. "And he swore that he wouldn't marry another woman, because nobody was ever going to take her place. But then he was attacked by a Hollow, and rescued by a Captain of the new Gotei Squads, Okiayu Ryōtarō. Okiayu wasn't a noble, but he was a warrior, and the leaders of the Soul Society had recognized his power by making him the first Captain of the Sixth Division."

Rukia, still sitting silently at Byakuya's side, blinked in surprise and cast a questioning glance at her brother, who gave her a miniscule nod in response. This was the true history of the Kuchiki Clan, given to Renji in the form of ancient tomes and journals with the hope that he would use it for precisely this purpose..

"The two of them became friends, then lovers," Renji continued. "And finally, Tatsuo decided to name Okiayu his Consort, letting the world know that he considered the man his partner and equal. They eventually adopted Tatsuo's nephew, Isamu, who trained to become a Shinigami an' finally succeeded Okiayu as Captain of the Sixth. The Division's been held by a Kuchiki ever since.

"So what I want to know," he finished, "is how you can claim there's no precedent for my an' Byakuya's relationship when the very founder of your Clan did the exact same thing?"

* * *

Renji hoped that his collapse onto his seat looked like an emphatic closure to his words, but the truth was that his knees had simply given out on him. Resting his elbows on his thighs, he let his head hang slightly and quietly blew out a long breath. "Fuck," he whispered in an undertone, barely loud enough for even Byakuya to overhear. "Did I really just do that?"

"You did," Byakuya replied, sounding mildly amused, and Renji raised his head to meet those blue-silver eyes, virtually glowing with approval. "You acquitted yourself admirably, Renji."

"High praise," Renji chuckled weakly, and Byakuya smiled at him.

"Renji, that was amazing!" Rukia whispered from Byakuya's other side, and Renji raised his head to grin across at her; but stopped short when he saw Senbonzakura, still sheathed, resting on the table next to Byakuya's right hand. He clearly remembered Byakuya having left the blade in his rooms, so how -

"You can _summon_?" Renji hissed, incredulous. Being able to summon one's blade at a distance was a talent so rare it was virtually unheard-of, but there was no other way for the blade to have appeared at Byakuya's hand.

"I told you," came the whispered reply, "Senbonzakura is always by my side at need. I called him just as you drew Zabimaru." A faint quirk of the elegant mouth colored the words as Byakuya added, "It is perhaps the most useful of the talents my father left me."

Renji stared at Byakuya, open-mouthed in astonishment, but was prevented from replying when one of the Council members - not Masa, but the woman seated next to him, with pewter-grey hair and serene silver eyes set in an elegant face - rose to her feet and bowed graciously in Byakuya's direction.

"The Kuchiki Council withdraws its protest of your union, Byakuya-sama, Abarai-taichou, and we wish you well."

Propriety ignored for a moment, Renji and Rukia exchanged brilliant grins, and Renji set one hand on Byakuya's knee, beneath the table. From the corner of his eye, Byakuya shot Renji another glance, but the eye was creased in a smile.

* * *

Renji's steps were light as he made his way back to the Fifth Division, despite the pile of paperwork he had no doubt was facing him upon his return. It had been his words that had changed the tide of the Kuchiki Council's opinion; shortly after Renji's speech, Kuchiki Azumi - the woman who had wished them well - had turned to the rest of the Council and suggested they 'discuss the behavior of Kuchiki Masa.' The man in question had risen from his seat and stormed out without a word, and the meeting had dissolved shortly after that, with Rukia, Byakuya, and Renji all departing for their respective Divisions, after the redhead had returned the kenseikan to their rightful bearer.

He was still well beyond the grounds of the Fifth when the first faint sounds met his ears - the steady ring of steel on steel and the whipcrack-cadence of a drill-master calling orders. Curious, he took a few careful leaps in Flashstep, landing lightly on the wall ringing the training grounds, taking care to keep himself mostly hidden by the shadow of a large tree.

What he saw amazed him.

Seventy-five of his least sword-talented officers were on the drill field, Zanpakutou drawn, moving through kendo katas to the rhythm of Ise Minori's shouts. They looked like an exhibition team; every person was perfectly synchronized, their execution of the kata flawless.

A short distance away under the watchful eye of his third seat, Masai, Yahi Akihiko, the man who had nearly been killed by his own Zanpakutou only weeks before, sent Kazedai's four shuriken-blades whirling through the air, two of them bearing down on the one man coming at him straight-on while the other two deflected the blades his other two opponents had aimed at his back.

Grinning in amazement, Renji watched as a man who literally could not have controlled his Zanpakutou to save his life a month before effortlessly deflected three sparring partners simultaneously, his command of his weapon all but flawless.

Renji flicked his eyes back to the drill line in time to catch Minori's gaze. The woman merely raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction before turning her attention back to calling orders, and Renji laughed to himself as he jumped off the wall and into the grounds.

"Captain on the field!" Minori barked as soon as his feet touched ground, and every officer present immediately snapped to attention, raising their blades to salute position. Even Yahi, Renji noticed with some amusement, recalled Kazedai's blades to hover in neat formation over his shoulders.

"Welcome back, Abarai-Taichou," Minori offered with a smile, bowing her salute to him.

"Thanks," he answered absently, his eyes flicking over the assembled officers. "I just gotta say, if you guys get any better..." pausing, he let a grin steal over his face. "Byakuya's gonna be fucking jealous."

Whoops of laughter answered him, and Renji couldn't help laughing with them. "I dunno how the fuck you did it in a week, but keep doin' it, guys."

A few weary chuckles answered him, and one of his unseated officers grinned from the drill line. "With all due respect, sir, if we keep doing what we're doing at the pace we're doing it, we'll all drop from exhaustion. We've been pushing ourselves a bit because, well, we wanted to give you a good welcome home."

"You guys..." shaking his head, Renji could only smile. "You know, I told Byakuya not too long ago that the Fifth was the best damned Division in the Gotei - and I stand by that," he added, as looks of delighted astonishment began to steal over the faces of his officers. "I could not be prouder of any of you."

"Nor us of you, sir," spoke up Masai, to a round of emphatic nodding.

"Like we told those damned brutes from the Eleventh, you're the best Captain in the Seireitei!" someone shouted, and cheers of agreement went up, leaving Renji's breath short in his throat.

"For what it's worth, I stand by that assessment as well," Minori murmured in an undertone as she stepped up beside him. "I wanted to thank you, sir."

"Thank me for what? I haven' done anything," Renji muttered back, and Minori snorted.

"I'm not a fool, sir. Nanao-san's invitation to the ceremony - the words may have come from Kuchiki, but the idea came from you. You may not realize it, but it meant the world to her. So, thank you," she said simply, and Renji nodded.

"_Oy, Senbonzakura. Pass that on to Byakuya, would you?" _he called mentally, and felt the spirit's agreement. Aloud, he replied simply, "She's very welcome, an' I'm glad she could find some resolution after all these years."

Casting one last glance over his exponentially improved officers, he clapped Minori on the shoulder and said simply, "Carry on - Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, trying and not quite succeeding to keep the broad grin off her face. "Welcome home."


	25. All Good Things

CONTINUITY NOTE - PLEASE READ! This chapter of the story was developed long before chapter 397 of the manga was released, and this is the first point in the story thus far where I significantly deviate from canon. Although I made a few minor modifications to the story after 398 and the following chapters, I have retained the bones of my original storyline, which ignores one of Kubo-sensei's larger revelations. Therefore, those of you who are up to date on the manga, please refrain from reviewing with 'But Ichigo knew that!' Those of you who are _not_ up to date, I recommend either BleachExile or OneManga for rectifying that.

A/N: And here is where the beginning draws to an end... this has been an amazing ride, and I want to thank you all for being with me through it. You will never know how much it has meant to me - thank you all so much!

Translator's Notes: Wabisuke - Kira's Zanpakutou. The name translates as 'penitent/apologizing man'.

* * *

**RED DUTY, BLACK HONOR**

Chapter 24: All Good Things...

The letter was written on heavy parchment, the calligraphic strokes bold and precise, and even on the other side of the room, looking through the back of the paper, Ise Minori could see the seal of the First Division stamped on the page. It had been sitting on the Captain's desk when they entered the office that morning; Renji had read it immediately, his face expressionless. Then he had reread it three more times, his eyes narrowing and his mouth tightening with every repetition, until he finally set the letter face-down on his desk.

"Minori." His voice was level, carefully blank, and she jerked her head up from her paperwork, startled by the uncharacteristic tone.

"Sir?"

"Get the Squad together. I have to make an announcement," he said simply.

"Sir?" she repeated, eyebrows raising in concern. 'Reticent' was not a word that could often be associated with Abarai Renji; he was a man who had always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve and his troubles on his shoulders, so to see him so silent about the contents of the letter was worrisome.

Silently, Renji lifted his head just enough to shoot Minori a sharp look.

Without another word, she saluted and hurried out of the office to gather the Fifth.

* * *

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Ichigo growled, arms folded tightly across his chest as he glowered at the screen before him.

"My sense of humor's not this elaborate." Shinji answered, his tone just as sour. "Ichimaru's fuckin' disappeared, _again_, and you seem to be the only one who can find him."

"This is the fourth time in a month! And you said he keeps coming back on his own -"

"He's usually gone for one hour, not four," Shinji interrupted, shaking his head.

"If you'd just go to the damned apartment building -"

"We _do_ go to the building," Shinji snapped back. "Every time. He's never there when we show up."

"Well, that's funny, because he's _always_ there when I do!" Ichigo countered, pausing momentarily to step backwards, allowing Urahara clear space to glide across the floor in a rolling office chair, mumbling absently under his breath about reiatsu cloaking and shield devices.

Turning his attention back to the irritated Visored on the screen, Ichigo sighed and shook his head. "Look, I'll be there in a few minutes, all right? I'm supposed to be coming to Karakura today anyway, I just have to let my Squad know I'm leaving earlier than anticipated."

"Kira not back yet?" Shinji asked, a faint note of sympathy replacing his annoyance. "Working without a Lieutenant is the shits. Just be glad you're still off the active patrol rosters."

The Third, Fifth and Ninth had all been removed from active duty immediately after Aizen defection; once the War ended, Shuuhei had dragged himself and his Squad up by their heels and demanded they be returned to active duty. Against the better judgement of the Captains, they were, and the Ninth had regained itself the most quickly of any of the three betrayed Divisions. The Third and Fifth, however, had not been returned to the patrol lists.

"Of course he's not back yet, it's barely been two weeks -"

"It's been seventeen days," Urahara interjected from the side of the room, and Ichigo threw his hands up in frustration.

"Your Squad will be notified of your departure, Kurosaki-taichou," Nemu offered, her tone expressionless as ever but her eyes gleaming with amusement. The reprograming Urahara had done with her really had worked wonders - she was able to laugh at people now, rather than want to dissect them. "Please proceed to the Senkaimon whenever you are ready."

"Thanks," he answered tightly, glancing back at Shinji's annoyed face on the screen. "Try not to lose anybody else before I get there, all right?"

"Screw you too, Kurosaki," Shinji shot back, and broke the connection as Ichigo flipped him off.

Sighing, Ichigo spun on his heel and marched to the Senkaimon, aiming once again to cage the rabid fox that roamed his hometown.

* * *

Ichigo wasn't surprised to find Gin sitting on the dust-choked roof of the crumbling apartment, knees drawn to his chest and arms folded across them, pale-blue eyes fixed steadily on the brown-haired woman pacing her living room in the building opposite.

Gin didn't shift as Ichigo alighted on the rooftop; it wasn't until Ichigo stood beside him and asked flatly "Why can't the Visoreds see you?" that he looked up at all.

"Watcha' mean, Ichi-kun?"

"Just what I said," Ichigo replied levelly, staring down at the silver-haired former Captain, arms folded tightly across his chest. "The Visoreds come here to look for you every time you escape, but Shinji says they can't see you. How are you hiding yourself?"

"They can' see me?" Looking genuinely bewildered, Gin frowned and scratched his head. "I dunno, Ichi-kun. 'm not doin' anythin' t' shield m'self... I jus' though' they were lettin' me alone here."

"So I'm just supposed to believe you're mysteriously invisible for no reason," Ichigo retorted flatly, scowling harder when Gin only shrugged in response.

"Ya b'lieve wha' ya wan' to anyways, right, Ichi-kun?" Gin replied, then sat up abruptly, his gaze once more fixed on the apartment across the street.

"What?" Ichigo said sharply, turning to follow Gin's line of sight. The brown-haired woman had suddenly doubled over, clutching at her stomach, face contorting with pain as she stumbled across the room, seizing a telephone from the small table next to her rocking chair and punching numbers with a trembling hand.

"She's going into labor," Ichigo realized, and Gin nodded silently, his eyes half-closed once again.

"Yeah," came the low murmur, and Ichigo jumped back a step as Gin rose to his feet, his face expressionless and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Le's go, Ichi-kun," he said softly, and walked with slumped shoulders to the top of the fire escape.

Bewildered, Ichigo swung his gaze back and forth between the vanishing silver head of the man and the tear-streaked face of the woman, then swore out loud and leapt after Gin. The former Shinigami was already on the ground when Ichigo landed, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and head hanging as he walked back towards the Shoten.

Scowling, Ichigo took a short Shunpo step to catch up to the taller man, seized one still-thin shoulder and spun Gin around, biting back the urge to slam him into the brick wall behind them. "Give it up, Ichimaru. Who is she? Why are you so obsessed with that woman?"

Ice-colored eyes opened again, wide with surprise, and blinked at Ichigo for a long minute before the reply finally came.

" 's got nothin' t' do wi' her, yanno. An' if ya can' tell wa's so interestin', how d' ya expect me ta feel anythin'?" Raising one hand, Gin knocked Ichigo's gripping hand aside, then reached down and untied the sash holding his pale-blue yukata top closed.

"Ichimaru, what the hell are you -"

A sharp tug pulled the front of his yukata open, baring a painfully thin, white-skinned torso raked with dozens of pale-silver scars, and Ichigo immediately fell silent.

Bone-thin hands raised, spidery fingers tracing over the line of the most vicious scar adorning that abused body; the still-raw wounds that had severed his Saketsu and Hakusui - the centers of his spirit-energy - and utterly destroyed the paths of his reiatsu. Ichigo stared wordlessly, torn between horror and pity at the sight.

A frown twitching over his face, Gin quietly let his short yukata fall back into place, hiding the wounds from view as he quickly retied his sash.

" 'm no' a Shinigami anymore, Ichi-kun," he said softly, eyes downcast, and walked away without another word.

Ichigo could only stare after him, too shocked by the sight of those scars - not all of them battle-marks, he knew - to respond.

It wasn't until an ambulance shrieked past him, heading for the brown-haired woman's apartment, that he snapped from his reverie and quietly set off after Gin, who was already halfway back to the Shoten.

* * *

Shinji and Kensei met them at the door.

"Right where I said he was," Ichigo snapped, shoving his way past the two. "And I asked. He's not taking any measures to shield himself from detection."

"You honestly believe him when he says that?" Kensei snapped, incredulous. "Ichigo, this is _Ichimaru Gin_ you're dealing with. He's probably lying through his fucking teeth."

"Ri' here, yanno..."

"He doesn't have an honest bone in his body!"

"...says the man who perpetually cheats at cards," Shinji interjected, a broad smirk on his face.

"Ya _both_ cheat a' cards," Gin pointed out, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms across his chest, staring dully at the floor.

"He obviously has one honest bone in his body, then, because I know that's the truth," Ichigo snapped at the two, both of whom fell silent. "Besides, he showed me his neutralization scar. It's still raw - there's no way he's using any kind of reiatsu-based ability."

"No offense, Ichigo, but your ability to detect reiatsu is still shit," Shinji pointed out, earning himself one of Ichigo's nastier scowls. Gin, meanwhile, pushed himself up from the doorframe and strolled out of the room, heading for the kitchen. Kensei was leaning against the edge hallway door, and Gin was forced to slip around him, barely brushing against Kensei as he went.

"This isn't about my ability to detect reiatsu," Ichigo snapped. "Since if he did have any left to speak of, I'm sure you would have sensed it?"

That silenced both of them, Kensei's scowl deepening as a faint tinge of red crept its way across Shinji's cheekbones.

"You have been reading him for reiatsu, right?" Ichigo pressed, a sense of disbelief overtaking him when neither man answered.

Shinji opened his mouth, frowned sheepishly, and closed it again. "I hadn't really thought to check. Aside from constantly slipping his collar, he's been fairly well-behaved, so we've pretty much just let him be."

"We've been complacent morons," Kensei summarized flatly as Gin returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray of drinks. Without really looking, Kensei reached for one of the cans, pausing with his hand half-extended when he saw Shinji's wide eyes fixed on the tray. Frowning, Kensei turned to look at the tray, then stopped short in astonishment.

Tachikaze, Kensei's Zanpakutou, was lying innocently on the tray beside the beer he had been reaching for.

"What the _fuck_, Ichimaru?"

"Plucked 'im outta yer pocket when I wen' past ya," Gin answered, slipping around Kensei to set the tray down on the table. His movements easy and slow, he picked the trench-knife up by the hilt, studying it for a moment before giving it a casual flip into the air. Faint light glittered off the lethally-sharp blade as it spun, but Gin calmly raised one hand, palm-down, and caught the point of the blade expertly between two fingers as the knife spun back down.

Kensei's eyes went wider than Shinji had ever seen them. "There's no way in hell - if I tried that, even I'd be missing fingers," Kensei hissed, fists clenching as he stepped forward. "What the hell have you done to him?"

"Nothin'," Gin answered calmly, giving the blade another flip and catching the flat of the blade easily in his hand before extending it, hilt-first, to Kensei. Pale eyes opened fully, meeting the furious amber gaze without hesitation. "He jus' trusts me, s'all."

Kensei froze, his hand half-extended towards his blade, and stared at Gin for a long moment. When the taller man remained silent and still, Kensei slowly wrapped his own hand around the hilt of his blade, never taking his eyes from Gin's.

"All right," he said finally, tucking Tachikaze back into his pocket and leaning past Gin to retrieve one of the beers on the tray.

* * *

An hour later, Ichigo vaulted through the window of his bedroom, effectively scaring the daylights out of Kon. Much to Ichigo's surprise, the modsoul, still firmly ensconced in Ichigo's body, was hunched over his desk, busily working at a pile of homework. Even given how his last few weeks had gone, the fact that Kon - slacker, ladies' man, and escapist extraordinaire - was _willingly _suffering through what appeared to be precalculus homework was weird enough to register in Ichigo's weary mind.

"It's not like I have a choice," the modsoul whined when Ichigo questioned him. "That damned Quincy and your father have been threatening me about my grades slipping a half a point."

"You mean _my_ grades," Ichigo pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck and reflecting that his life was truly bizarre when the fact he was arguing with his own body over ownership of grades _didn't _register as bizarre.

Kon glowered in response, the haughty undertone of the expression looking odd on Ichigo's face. "No, I mean _my_ grades. I've been in your body for over four months, Ichigo - trust me, none of your work is on the board anymore."

"Well, you can take a break," Ichigo sighed, looking around for his badge. "I stopped in to say hi to my family, and it'll probably work better if I'm physical for that."

Any reply Kon might have made, however, was cut off by a suddenly-present echo of two familiar spiritual pressures. Even suppressed by the limiters, they were still strong enough for even Ichigo to detect, and coming rapidly closer.

"What the hell -" Ichigo began, half-turning back towards the window as the two pressures alighted just outside the house, then stopping short as he heard the doorbell chime. Without bothering to return to his body, Ichigo spun around and was out the door of his bedroom before Kon could speak, thundering down the stairs to the front of the house. Much to his surprise, he was forced to back-pedal at the bottom of the stairs to avoid colliding with his father, who had apparently slipped in from the Clinic to grab lunch. Isshin didn't even blink as he walked past his son's spiritual form, and Ichigo exhaled a slow sigh of relief. Obviously his father _was_ about as sensitive as a brick, to souls as well as his children's embarrassment.

Which did not help the fact that Isshin was about to open the door to a pair of incredibly powerful souls that were no doubt here seeking Ichigo.

* * *

"I was really quite surprised, I never would have guessed he had it in him."

"Certainly you're not complaining?" The rejoinder came with an arched eyebrow, and was answered with a cheerful laugh and a fast shake of the head.

"Oh, of course not! I'm very pleased to see him finally learning his own strength. He spent far too long under Ichimaru's thumb. We were obviously right about Ichigo; his influence was clearly for the best."

"Given that Kira managed to -"

The door of the Kurosaki household opened quickly, and both men glanced up from their conversation. Instead of looking meeting Ichigo's fire-shaded gaze, though, serious, dark-brown eyes gazed levelly at the pair as Isshin Kurosaki opened the door.

"Ukitake, Kyouraku," he said calmly, as Ichigo went still on the staircase behind him. "Please, come in."

* * *

All of the breath in Ukitake's body escaped him in a single, disbelieving gasp, his eyes flying wide as one hand shot to cover his mouth. "I - _Isshin_?" he gasped, the broken whisper escaping between his fingers, even as an equally stunned Kyouraku set a hand in the small of Ukitake's back to keep him from falling. "Isshin? You're -"

"It's me, Jyuushiro," Isshin sighed, raking a hand over his hair. It was a nervous gesture that looked habitual, but Ichigo had never seen it. "If you're here for my son, he's -"

"Ichigo... oh, gods," Ukitake murmured, burying his head in his hands. "I knew he resembled Kaien, but I never thought..."

Smiling weakly, Isshin leaned forward, clasping Ukitake's shoulder with one hand. "Come in, Jyuushiro, and sit down. We can talk inside."

* * *

Standing on the veranda outside his office, Renji gazed over his assembled Division. They were over two hundred now; a rush of transfers, more than a handful of those from the Sixth, had swelled their numbers back to those of a healthy Squad, and Renji was proud of every single one of his officers. Trying to keep his face steady, he ran his hand over the letter from the First Division once again, crinkling the paper tucked in the sash of his hakama.

"Got an announcement," he began without preamble, and every face was immediately fixed on him. Even Minori, standing behind him on the veranda, was staring so hard he could feel her gaze on the back of his head.

"There was a letter on my desk from the First Division this morning," he continued, pulling the folded paper out and holding it up, the seal clearly visible, before turning it back to himself and unfolding it. "I won't bother ya with the polite babble part of it, but I do wanna read one section off to ya." Clearing his throat uneasily, he straightened the letter before him and began.

" 'The significant improvement in the officers of the Fifth Division, following Abarai Renji's ascension to Captaincy, has been noted by the reviews of the Captain's Council. It has therefore been recommended and approved that the Fifth Division be removed from probation and henceforth returned to fully operational status.' "

Stunned silence swept the crowd for a second, before disbelieving grins began to flicker across faces.

Folding up the letter again, Renji finally allowed the grin he had been suppressing all morning to break across his face. "An' that means that as of next week, the Fifth is an active Squad again. Congratulations, guys," he added softly, but nobody heard the last words - they were drowned out completely by the cheers of his officers.

* * *

Still stunned, Ichigo sat silently at the kitchen table, staring at his father from across the familiar distance. It could have been any other family meal, if he ignored the fact that rather than his sisters sitting to either side of him, two of the eldest and most powerful Captains of the Seireitei occupied the seats, both tucked into gigai in an attempt at normalcy. Ukitake, wearing grey slacks and a simple blue button-down shirt, his white hair mostly restrained in a thick braid, had succeeded, but Kyouraku - wearing jeans, a white sleeveless shirt, and a pink Hawaiian shirt painfully reminiscent of his favorite kimono - was eye-catching.

And both of them knew his father.

His father, who was spiritually sensitive enough to have detected Ichigo the moment he stepped through the Senkaimon, which was why he hadn't batted an eye at seeing his son's Shinigami form at the bottom of the stairs. His father, who had known since Rukia's appearance the night that that damned Hollow first attacked and Ichigo wound up with Sode no Shirayuki through his gut, Rukia's powers exploding through his body, _exactly_ what his son was.

His father, who was a Shinigami.

"A Shinigami Captain, in fact," Kyouraku added thoughtfully, swirling one finger through the condensation on his glass of lemonade - sweet Yuzu would never allow alcohol in the house, particularly since, as Karin said, Isshin was quite bad enough without it.

Ichigo took a deep breath, trying not to let his anger make his body tremble. The feeling of betrayal that had washed over him when his father had so-calmly greeted his former fellows at the door was overwhelming. For over two years, his father had known everything that his son was suffering through - and never once said a thing. Not when Ichigo had first risked his life, chasing after Rukia to save her from a death sentence in the Seireitei. Not when Ichigo's inner Hollow had threatened to eat his soul, forcing him to turn to the Visoreds for help. Not when Ichigo had returned from Hueco Mundo and the War, so tortured by nightmares of his friend's blood and cold green eyes that he could barely sleep at nights.

To Ichigo's right, Ukitake was trembling as well, faint little twitches that ran across his shoulders and hands and had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with shock. He was reacting, Ichigo thought with bitter humor, the way a normal human would upon seeing a ghost.

Slowly, Isshin nodded, his gaze not leaving the tabletop. "About a hundred years ago, I took over the position of Tenth Squad Captain. The previous one had been killed in a Hollow attack, and I was apparently getting too big for my britches as a Lieutenant." Shrugging slightly, he downed the contents of his glass, and Kon, lingering sheepishly nearby in Ichigo's body, silently brought the pitcher to refill it.

"I took over the Tenth, and everything was great until about... ho, what was it, forty, forty-five years ago, now? I came out here on assignment and was chatting with Urahara when this woman walked into the shop... I'd never seen anyone as beautiful as she was. I'd never believed in love at first sight until that moment," he added wistfully, gaze and attention drifting off into the distance, and Ichigo cleared his throat, bringing his glass down on the table with a bang.

Jumping slightly, Isshin returned to his story. "It probably wouldn't have amounted to much. She'd just run away from her father, and if I reported anything about it back to the Seireitei, they'd have forced her to return. She was at the Shoten because she knew about Kisuke, and wanted him to build her a reiatsu-blocking gigai, so that she couldn't be detected. He was going ahead with it while I monitored the area, trying to protect them both from her father's agents. Everything was going fine until a Hollow attacked.

"We know now that it was probably one of Aizen's experiments, probably out of the same batch that had attacked Shuuhei's training group the next year. I managed to destroy that one, but the injuries I sustained in the fight were enough that I lost my powers. I dragged myself back to Urahara's, and he and Masaki -"

"Wait," Ichigo interrupted sharply. "How does Mom factor into this?"

"I didn't tell you?" Isshin replied, startled. "Masaki was the woman I met at Urahara's."

"But she -"

"Let me finish, Ichigo," Isshin ordered, and the young man fell silent. "Masaki and Kisuke patched me back together and stuffed me into a gigai as well, but I knew at that point I wouldn't be able to return to the Seireitei. So I just..."

"Disappeared," Ukitake finished softly, and the other three turned their gazes to the pale man. Ukitake was still staring down into his untouched glass of lemonade, but even with his bangs shielding his face, Ichigo could see that his eyes were damp.

"I can't say much in my defense, Jyuushiro," Isshin admitted. "I was worthless to the Seireitei at that point - as good as dead without my powers. I had no idea whether they would ever return, and I didn't want to leave Masaki to the mercy of her father's agents, if they ever found her. So I stayed."

"And you never bothered to contact us, to let us know you were safe," Kyouraku shot back. Although his voice was level, Ichigo could see the tension in the big man's shoulders, see the low spark of heat in his grey eyes. It was the first time Ichigo had really seen the laid-back Captain display signs of a temper, but he knew instinctively that if the man was ever roused to full fury, it would be best to be somewhere very far away.

Isshin shook his head, anger and guilt twisting his own face. "At the time, I was too ashamed of myself to even consider that. I'd just gotten the reiatsu beaten out of me by a damned Hollow, Shunsui! How was I supposed to face you, or Jyuushiro, or the other Captains and tell them that? And in the end, I thought it would be less painful for you and Jyuushiro if you simply thought I'd died on the mission, rather than knowing I was as good as dead to you here in the Living World!"

Kyouraku hung his head, silent, and Ukitake had his face buried in his hands, his breathing harsh between his fingers.

"Urahara made sure the gigai I was in would keep my soul stable, despite the damage I had suffered, and age like a normal human would. He got us both identities. I changed my name, married Masaki, put myself through medical school while I was recovering. I became a surgeon, established my own clinic, had three wonderful children," Isshin continued, nodding across the table to Ichigo. "Given Masaki's and my history, I suppose it was inevitable that they would all have some form of spiritual power -"

"What do you mean, Mom's history? She was a normal human!" Ichigo burst out, unable to contain himself, and Isshin slammed a hand down on the tabletop.

"No, she wasn't, now shut up and let me finish!" When Ichigo stared at him, wide-eyed and silent, Isshin leaned back in his seat and blew out a sigh. "I didn't expect Kuchiki Rukia, of all people, to land on our doorstep and drag Ichigo headlong into the Gotei," he confessed wearily, some of his anger fading into a tired chuckle. "But I've known all along what Ichigo was going through, even if I couldn't admit to it." Locking eyes with his son over the table, he added quietly, "The first thing I did upon regaining my powers was destroy Grand Fisher. I've avenged Masaki's death, Ichigo."

Ichigo stared across the table, his eyes hard, and Isshin sighed softly. "You want to know about your mother, I'm sure. The truth is this; your mother was a very powerful individual. I had hoped we managed to hide her origins, but they might have been the reason for Aizen's interest in you. When she fled from her father, she abdicated her position and surrendered most of her powers, but what she still retained was enough to put most Captains to shame. She was a simple, kind woman at heart, though, and she wanted nothing to do with the politics and power that went with her position as her father's heir. That's why she ran, and why she came to Kisuke, who had no obligation or desire to report her back to the Seireitei, where her father would inevitably hear of it. She was his only child, and there's no knowing the lengths he would have gone to in order to get her back."

"Stop beating around the goddamned bush, Dad," Ichigo growled, cutting Isshin off. "Who the hell was Mom's father?"

Looking his son straight in the eye, Isshin answered simply, "The King of the Soul Society."

As Ichigo reeled in his seat, Isshin added steadily, "Masaki was his only offspring. And as her most powerful child, that puts you in the position of Heir."

* * *

"Why didn't you ever tell him?" Shunsui asked softly, his head tilted back and his eyes closed as he felt for Ichigo's reiatsu, vanishing through the Shoten's Senkaimon and back to the Seireitei.

Sighing again, Isshin could only shake his head. "How could I? When is the right time to drop a bombshell like that on a boy that young? Of course," he added philosophically, "he's had to bear up under unimaginable piles of crap all along, so he's really not that young after all, is he?" Miserably, he threw back the contents of his glass again, clearly wishing they were alcoholic

"He's engaged," Kyouraku chuckled, and had to rock back from the table when Isshin spit lemonade across the entire surface.

"_Engaged_?" Isshin choked, accepting the handkerchief that Ukitake offered him and sheepishly wiping his mouth. "To whom, exactly?"

Kyouraku's eyes glittered in faintly malicious delight. "Kuchiki Rukia, of course," he replied, and Isshin coughed again. Kon, sitting in the corner of the kitchen, gave a wail of anguish and ran from the room.

"I don't suppose I should be surprised," Isshin confessed, once he'd caught his breath back. "How's Byakuya taking things, though? Must be an incredible insult to him."

"He's been surprisingly supportive," Ukitake answered, taking the damp handkerchief back and wiping the table with it. "Not happy, I'll grant you, but supportive."

"Best we could ask for, I suppose," Isshin muttered, retrieving the pitcher of lemonade himself and refilling his glass.

"And you don't have any objections?" Kyouraku added, leaning back and holding out his own glass. Isshin shook his head as he obliged with a refill.

"Not particularly, why?"

Shunsui narrowed his eyes slightly. "She is the one who cut down Kaien," he answered, and Isshin shook his head again.

"No. The Hollow had already killed him - Rukia was simply kind enough to put him out of his misery. And truthfully," he added, taking his seat again, "even though Kaien was my son, I'd have done the same."

* * *

Ichigo had stormed five steps into his office before he realized he was not alone.

Blue eyes wide, Kira blinked at him from behind his desk. "Taichou? I'm sorry, I hope you didn't cut your time off short because I returned early."

"No," Ichigo answered, anger momentarily dissipating in the wake of his surprise. "I didn't even know you were back."

"Oh," Kira answered, confusion pinching his eyebrows. "Did something happen in the Living World, sir?"

"Oh, something happened, all right," Ichigo growled, a flicker of anger burning back through his chest. "Kyouraku and Ukitake showed up on my doorstep earlier - probably to tell me you were back, come to think of it - and they recognized my Dad when he opened the door."

"Recognized?" Kira echoed, the confusion on his face deepening, and Ichigo elaborated. And then, while Kira's mouth was still gaping in astonishment, Ichigo told him about his mother's side of the family.

Kira somehow managed to stagger whilst sitting down, but finally managed to recover himself enough to stammer "Ichigo - I mean, Your High-"

"Kira, if you even think of treating me like royalty, I'm going to hit you," Ichigo growled. "As far as I'm concerned, the fucking Spirit King can live forever, because I want _nothing_ to do with being his heir!"

Half-staggering the few steps across the office, Ichigo collapsed against his desk, clutching the carved side with violently shaking hands. "Fuck," he exhaled softly. "How does this all happen? Three years ago, I was... nobody. Just some kid with weird hair. And then all of the sudden I'm a Shinigami, and a Hollow, and a Visored, and the savior of the fucking Soul Society, I get a Captaincy dumped in my lap, and now I find out that I'm the fucking royal heir? Dammit, I didn't ask for this!"

The little clay cup that held Ichigo's pens was the closest handy target when Ichigo's temper snapped; it shattered against the doorframe only inches from a familiar, shaggy blond head.

"I'm assuming," Urahara said, gazing steadily at Ichigo and ignoring the spray of ceramic shards that had caught him when the cup shattered, "that your father enlightened you as to your origins."

"He enlightened me as to the fact you've known all along," Ichigo snarled back, his anger overwhelming any sympathy he might have felt for the thin lines of blood appearing on Urahara's face where the shards had cut him. "Why the hell didn't you ever tell me?"

"Your father asked me not to," came the level reply, and Ichigo snorted harshly in response.

"And? Since when have you cared what other people want, Kisuke?"

Kira winced at the cutting statement, and Urahara looked vaguely hurt. The expression was gone a moment later, though, covered by the opening snap of his fan, a steel-ribbed tessen that he wafted as casually as his old paper one. Over the edge of the black fan, playful grey eyes hardened into frozen steel, and Urahara shed his lighthearted demeanor in the blink of an eye.

"Ichigo, your father is one of my oldest friends. At one point, he, Tessai, and Yoroichi were the only people I knew I could trust. They were once the only ones who always believed in me, and I would have given anything to defend them - a philosophy I'm sure you can understand," he said flatly, and Ichigo flushed a dull red. "I did everything I could to help your parents when they were in need and respect your father's wishes. I do _not_," he added pointedly, "regret my actions in doing so. I do wish I could have done more to help you both, and to help Masaki, but I am not all-powerful." Quietly, he folded the fan again and gazed down at it, smiling faintly even as blood trickled down his cheek. "You should know, though... your father is very proud of you, Ichigo," he said softly.

Ichigo opened his mouth to reply, but Urahara had already gone, leaving behind nothing more than a few drops of blood mixed with broken ceramic shards.

* * *

After Kisuke's departure, Ichigo had wordlessly cleaned up the debris of his temper, then returned to his desk, shuffling through what little paperwork Hitsugaya had left him with. It took him almost a half an hour of mindlessly reading and signing reports before he stopped short and looked up at his Lieutenant, who had his head bowed over his own paperwork.

"Oy, Kira."

"Sir?"

"Didn't I tell you I didn't want to see you back in the office until you'd reached Bankai?" The tone of the question was bewildered rather than accusatory, and Kira laughed softly in response.

"You did, sir."

"...and?"

One fine blond eyebrow raised. "Have you had lunch yet, sir?"

It seemed like a complete non-sequitur, but Ichigo had learned over the past three months that there was very little Kira said that did not have a great deal of forethought behind it, regardless of whether or not it seemed to follow the conversation at hand. "I haven't, no."

The smile was faint and slightly sympathetic. "Go and grab some lunch, sir," Kira ordered gently, and Ichigo found a flicker of a grateful smile crossing his features as he slid from his chair.

"You need me to bring you back anything?"

"I've already eaten," Kira answered, shaking his head, and Ichigo nodded slightly as he slipped out the door.

* * *

A few minutes after Ichigo left, three Hell Butterflies fluttered back out the window of the Third Division's office, each bound for their own destination. Leaning against the windowsill, Kira silently watched them go.

* * *

It only took Ichigo twenty minutes to return from lunch. When he reentered the office, he found Kira sitting quietly at his desk, eyes closed, an unsheathed Wabisuke on the desk before him. Kira's thin, scarred hands were resting on the Zanpakutou; one hand over the hilt, one on the tip of the blade. It was not quite the standard position for formally communing with one's Zanpakutou, but it was no doubt just as effective for Kira - Ichigo could feel the low, steady thrum of his Lieutenant's reiatsu permeating the office, easily as strong and sure as that of Hisagi.

Sensing Ichigo's presence, Kira slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times as he pulled himself out of his meditations. "You're back already?"

"I eat fast," Ichigo answered, shrugging. "You ready?"

Rising from his seat, Kira calmly lifted his Zanpakutou from his desk and sheathed it in one smoothly practiced movement. "Yes," he replied steadily. "I'm ready."

Ichigo nodded, feeling a low coil of nervous anticipation twist his stomach. He had sparred with Kira more than a few times; actual practice sessions with bokken, the one, heartwrenching time he'd been forced to take the man on hand-to-hand. But they had never before fought with Zanpakutou.

Within him, Zangetsu raised his head, and Ichigo could feel the spirit's own anticipation. "_Be cautious in this battle, Ichigo. Wabisuke is not merciful, and his bearer is still fragile, easily broken._"

"_And you think I'm gonna break him?"_ Ichigo countered, incredulous, as he quietly followed Kira out the door of the office. They wouldn't head for the regular training grounds; releasing Bankai within the walls of Seireitei was, if not currently forbidden, at least firmly advised against.

"_No. But should this fight go poorly for you, he may break himself. You do not understand what this battle is costing him; when Ichimaru forced him to fight Hinamori and Matsumoto, two of his oldest friends, he swore he would never again raise his blade to a fellow Shinigami. That he has elected to challenge you to ascension by combat -"_

"_I get it, ossan,"_ Ichigo interrupted, staring at the back of the blond head in front of him. _"But I'm not going to hold back when I fight him._"

"_I was not telling you to hold back,"_ Zangetsu answered, sounding darkly amused. _"I was telling you not to die."_

_

* * *

_

An easy silence had settled between Kira and Ichigo as they walked - not Shunpo, neither of them had any desire to race into the battle coming between them - to the outer edges of the Seireitei, and Kira paused, glancing upwards to where the wall hung, as they crossed the barrier.

"What will you go, when you leave?" he asked softly, and Ichigo frowned a little. It was a good question, one he'd been asking himself a lot over the past few weeks.

"Back to Karakura, I suppose," he answered, shrugging. "I'm not ready to marry Rukia yet, so the engagement will have to keep for a while." Frown deepening, Ichigo kicked at a stray pebble in the path. "I got to speak to Karin, my sister, a little while ago," he said absently, watching the pale stone bounce off into the grass verge. "She said that with me gone, she and the other humans with spiritual powers were the ones who wound up taking care of the Hollows that were popping up back home."

"That's not right," Kira muttered, frowning as well. "You are the Shinigami of record for that area, but a replacement should have been assigned after your promotion. There's no reason for your family to be involved in it... well, beyond the obvious," he added sheepishly, when Ichigo shot a sarcastic look at him.

Ichigo snorted in response, shaking his head. "Well, that's where my idea comes from. When I return to Karakura, I want to start training the other spiritually-aware humans that I find there. I know that some of my friends, classmates, they have potential. And if they can see Hollows and present good bait, I want them to be able to defend themselves when I'm not around."

"The Soutaichou probably won't think kindly of that idea," Kira warned, veering a sharp right off the path, and Ichigo snorted again as he followed the other man without missing a beat.

"Kira, if you've become powerful enough to match me, the Soutaichou can kiss my ass for all I care. You'll be a Captain, and I won't be one of his direct agents anymore."

Biting back a smile, Kira could only shake his head. For all the control and maturity he'd gained since coming to the Soul Society, Ichigo was still the hot-tempered, defiant teenager who had first drawn his blade against Abarai Renji, those few long years ago.

"In that case," Kira answered, stepping quietly onto the field, "let us see how powerful I have become."

* * *

'_Let us see how powerful I have become.'_

The words were spoken softly, but beneath them, unmistakable, was the battle-tempered strength of ringing steel. Ichigo - his attention forcibly pulled from its inward focus - lifted his head sharply and took a moment to truly survey his surroundings.

He and Kira were standing at the edge of a wide, roughly-maintained field, patchy with dust where the grass had died. At the far side, the ruins of an old stone building lay sullen and moldy under the bright sun.

And in front of it, the Third Division had assembled.

Although the typical rules for Captaincy Trial by Combat required at least two hundred members of the Division to witness the battle, the Third had not yet returned to a full quota of officers. One hundred and seventy-eight Shinigami, the full complement of the Third, had gathered before that pile of ruined stone.

Three white haori were visible amongst the sea of black - Ichigo narrowed his eyes slightly, seeking out with his other senses to catch the sharp flame of Renji's reiatsu, the quiet pulse of Shuuhei's, and, oddly, the subdued burn of Urahara's.

"_They come to bear witness, in place of the absent numbers,_" Zangetsu rumbled, and Ichigo nodded slightly.

"_They're also Kira's friends,_" he answered silently as he drew the blade from his back, turning to find Kira had already done the same. Bowing to the other man, he raised Zangetsu to a ready position. "_It's right that they should be here for him."_

_

* * *

_

"Raise your head, Wabisuke!"

Ichigo cursed sharply, leaping backwards across the dusty ground as the explosion of Kira's reiatsu licked over his skin. They had warmed up for a few minutes, exchanging only light blows, Wabisuke's graceful katana form looking absurdly delicate against Zangetsu's wide blade.

But then Kira had narrowed his eyes, and Ichigo hadn't quite dodged the blow that left first blood seeping from a narrow wound across his chest. And now that Kira had released -

"Shit!" Ichigo exploded, using Shunpo to put some space between himself and Wabisuke's hook-like blade. He had no idea how severely the Zanpakutou's weight-doubling powers would affect him; nor did he particularly care to find out. Pivoting in midair, he swung Zangetsu in a high arc and released a Getsuga Tenshou - only partial-strength, he wasn't trying to kill Kira, after all - but the blast of energy stuck almost directly at Kira's feet, and the blond vanished behind a spray of shattered earth.

Horror gripped Ichigo's stomach for a bare second before Zangetsu's snap of "_He's fine, look out!_" spun Ichigo away again, a split-second from having his sword arm cleaved off at the shoulder. The inner edge of Wabisuke's blade clinked against the flat of Zangetsu - barely a touch, and it would have gone unnoticed by both men if Zangetsu's weight hadn't suddenly doubled in Ichigo's hand.

Gritting his teeth, Ichigo swung again to release another blast. The ground ripped itself apart beneath the power of the strike, but Kira was -

"_Behind you, Ichigo!"_

"Fuck!" The hooked blade whistled bare inches under his feet as Ichigo leapt upward, his breath already coming faster than he cared to admit.

* * *

A few minutes later, Ichigo knew he was in trouble. Even discounting the fact that Kira was his officer and friend, Ichigo had no desire to get into full blade combat with the other man - already he could feel the faint strain beginning in his arms from wielding his double-weighted Zanpakutou, and Kira's Shunpo was far better than he'd realized. They couldn't fight on equal terms; Ichigo wasn't willing to unleash a full Getsuga Tenshou against him, couldn't get in close to fight, and couldn't land a blow from behind when Kira's Shunpo was at least a match for his. His only real chances at winning would be to either catch Kira off-guard or increase his speed, and the first was not likely.

Extending Zangetsu before him, Ichigo bowed his head and called his Bankai.

The sheer, overwhelming force of Ichigo's reiatsu, released at such close range, was enough to knock Kira backwards almost twice his own body-length, feet digging furrows in the dusty, grass-choked soil.

When the roaring wave of energy dissipated, Kira raised his head, turning automatically towards the faint music of Tensa Zangetsu's broken chain. He had never had the chance to see Ichigo's Bankai at such a close distance, and his eyes traced the elegant curve of the black blade with something a little akin to awe.

Hitsugaya, Renji, Shuuhei. All three of them had done what the Seireitei had always claimed impossible - gaining their Bankai within mere decades of discovering their powers. And of course, Ichigo, who had never bowed to the constraints of possibility, and had gained his within months. Theirs were the names whispered by young students now, in tones of near-worship; _work hard and train hard and maybe you'll become a Captain in fifty years like Hisagi or Abarai!_

And now, as he spun Wabisuke so that the flat of the blade lay along the side of his arm, Kira let the whisper escape his lips that would put his name among their ranks.

"Bankai."

* * *

Once, Ishida had said to him, "Of course I can find you. You're the only person I know whose reiatsu tastes like flame." Ichigo had never truly understood what the Quincy meant by that; Ichigo himself could feel reiatsu, and occasionally smell them, but not until now had he encountered one that truly had a taste.

Wabisuke's power was metallic, almost bitter at the back of Ichigo's tongue.

"_Ever has Wabisuke's strength been other's grief," _Zangetsu whispered. _"You taste tears and blood within his power."_

Breathing hard, Ichigo tightened his grip on Zangetsu's hilt, hearing the chain ring as he did so. Kira was standing silently, fifty feet away, his unchanged blade held in a steady grasp.

To the naked eye, it looked as though Kira's release had failed. Wabisuke obviously did not change forms with its Bankai release, but the thought was not reassuring to Ichigo. It simply meant that the blade's power would be focused elsewhere.

Drawing a slow breath, Ichigo eyed his opponent, weighing his options. Kira's shikai was limited to direct-contact strikes, but there was no guarantee that his Bankai had the same constraints.

Kira raised his blade.

Cursing mentally, Ichigo leapt for the air.

With a flash of teeth too feral to be called a smile, Kira swung Wabisuke down.

The ground around him shattered.

The circle was two hundred feet across, the edges perfectly defined. Beyond the circle, the ground was perfectly unharmed. Within it, however, the massive increase in gravity had crushed the ground down under its own weight, sinking the floor of the circle into the ground until the walls of it were higher than Kira's head.

In the epicenter of that circle, unaffected by the crushing weight, Kira stood calmly, his blue eyes gazing down at the crumpled black form.

Pressed into the ground by the suddenly-unbearable weight of his own body, Ichigo gasped for breath, the very molecules of air too heavy to draw into lungs that felt crushed by their own weight. He could not move, could not breath, could barely even think for the crushing pain of the weight on him.

Silent feet crossed the grass - already crushed to a pulp beneath its own weight - pausing when they came within Ichigo's line of sight.

"This," came Kira's voice from above him, "is the power of my Bankai - Overwhelming Sorrow of the Penitent Man. A single strike will affect everything within a hundred-foot radius of me - on the ground, or in the air. I alone am immune to the effect of his power, leaving me free..." a shifting scrape of metal, and Ichigo could suddenly feel the cold line of steel moving against his throat, "to kill..." cold on three sides, now - Kira had settled the hook of Wabisuke's blade around Ichigo's neck, the inside of the blade settled against Ichigo's throat, "my opponents."

"_ICHIGO_!" Zangetsu screamed within his mind, as the blade moved against his throat -

- and suddenly the overwhelming pressure was gone, and Kira, crouched next to him, tapped the outside edge of Wabisuke's hook lightly against Ichigo's forehead. "Yield, Ichigo," the blond said, smiling faintly, and Ichigo drew a gasping breath back into his screaming lungs.

"I yield," he gasped, as soon as he had enough breath to speak again. "Gods, I yield." Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, Ichigo let his head hang as he continued to draw in struggling breaths. "Kira," he managed after a moment, "your Bankai is fucking _scary_."

"Thank you," came the amused response, and a pale hand appeared in Ichigo's line of vision. Taking it, Ichigo allowed the blond to pull him to his feet.

"It's still limited by distance, but Yoroichi-san believes that with more practice, I will be able to expand and even direct the area of effect," Kira continued, as he and Ichigo moved to the edge of the sunken area and leapt out.

"It's effective," Ichigo answered, still getting his breath back.

* * *

Seeing the battle over, the spectating Third Division - with Shuuhei, Renji, and Urahara in the lead - came across the field to surround the pair, offering their congratulations to Kira and their gratitude to Ichigo, as Ichigo unashamedly slipped off the Captain's haori he wore. Although he'd enjoyed leading the Third and seeing the improvement they made, he had taken the position with the stipulation that Kira would step up when he was ready.

As he turned to extend the white haori to Kira, though, Ichigo felt a hand settle on his shoulder. Turning, he caught the pale-blue gaze of the man behind him and stared in shock.

It took a moment to register Gin's identity - his hair was black, and he was wearing a black yukata and hakama that looked enough like shihakusho at first glance to avoid causing a lot of questions. Urahara, standing within arm's reach of the man, was watching him with steady eyes.

Behind him, Ichigo felt Shuuhei and Renji's energies shift as the two men realized the identity of the visitor. Kira's energy, though, remained steady and unaffected, and Ichigo turned to glance at him, thinking that he hadn't yet noticed Ichimaru's presence.

He was mistaken, though. Kira, with Shuuhei's hand on his shoulder and Renji standing at his back, was gazing, utterly calm, at the man who had broken him so badly, meeting those pale-blue eyes without hesitation or fear. Very gently reaching up, Kira pulled Shuuhei's hand from his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it, and stepped forward.

"Gin," he said steadily, when he came within a few feet of his one-time Captain.

" 'Zuru," the man smiled back. "Ya done good, yanno."

Smiling faintly, Kira nodded. "I know."

His smile uneasy, Gin gestured vaguely between Kira and the haori in Ichigo's arms. "Can I...?"

Startled, Ichigo raised an eyebrow at Kira. The blond met his gaze and nodded once, utterly steady.

Pale, thin hands gently lifted the heavy fabric from Ichigo's arms, carefully shaking it out to let the fabric unfold. Silently, Kira turned around, giving his back to Gin so that Ichimaru could settle the haori on his former Lieutenant's shoulders.

" 'm proud a' ya, Izuru," Gin whispered, leaning forward to brush a chaste kiss over Kira's temple before stepping away. Glancing up, he met Hisagi's eyes with a steady gaze. "Take good care a' him, Shuu-kun."

Shuuhei nodded back, utterly serious. "I will."

Gin nodded slightly, then walked away, Urahara following steadily in his path.

Turning back to his friends, Kira couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. There was Renji, once a Rukon dog, now standing straight and tall with the symbol of a Noble House at his throat and confidence on his face. And Hisagi, beside him, rested one hand comfortably on the hilt of the Zanpakutou he had once hated, finally at peace with himself.

And as for Kira... It was inevitable, he realized, as he settled the white haori across his shoulders. Time progressed, change happened, and life went on. But hopefully, if they always stood together, those changes would always be for the best.

* * *

In a hospital in Karakura town, a brown-haired newborn opened his eyes.

* * *

~ And here is where Red Duty, Black Honor draws to a close. I wish to extend my thanks to each and every person who has reviewed, faved, watched, and read this story - every one of you has been a driving force behind this. You do not realize how much your words and support have meant to me over the past eight months that this story has been going, and I owe you all so much.

The sequel to RDBH - Bonds of Honor - will begin posting within a week or two, and will take over RDBH's regular Wednesday posting schedule. I hope to see you all there.

Much love,

ObsidianJade

(Sarah)


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